


Welcome Heat

by cowlicklesschick



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-04 08:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 47,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5326700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowlicklesschick/pseuds/cowlicklesschick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One fire, one collapsing doorway, and one crazy coincidence lead Katara and Zuko to the world's most unlikely friendship forged through physical therapy appointments and dance classes. Shameless Zutara fluff with a side of angst. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Dedication:  
> Firefighters. Any country, any region – you brave men and women risk your lives and make a difference in society. Thank you all for your service, your dedication, and your courage. (Also, feel free to use this as a legit argument for people to bring you brownies in the hospital in the unfortunate circumstance that you get injured on the job. Because, hey, it might help you find true love.)  
> Also: I can’t believe how hard it is for me to consistently write in present tense. This story is giving my writing muscles a workout, that’s for sure. If you spot any verbs that are out of place, feel free to let me know and I’ll fix it.  
> Enjoy!

 

Katara clenches her fingers around the aluminum pan. She’d gotten it at the supermarket the day before. It was on clearance, probably because it’s a Christmas edition, so here she is, delivering brownies, to a man she doesn’t even know, in a pan with snowmen and reindeer emblazoned on the sides.

The elevator ride is tense, even though she’s the sole occupant, and she has almost talked herself out of this ridiculous idea by the time she reaches her floor, but she thinks back to the rough, gentle hands that had carried her out of the burning building, the sound of a guttural cry of pain when the doorway had collapsed, and she knows that if she doesn’t do this, it will make her a terrible person and the directors of the medical program at Ba Sing Se University will find out and then she won’t get into the program because of her heartless uncaring for those in suffering.

She sighs. If there’s any consolation, she knows, it’s that at least her classes won’t be delayed. Come Monday morning, they will resume as usual, she can forget about this whole stupid mess and concentrate on the important things, like color-coordinating her student planner and making sure her lab coat is clean and pressed for clinicals.

The burn unit of the Middle Ring Medical Center is flurry with activity – she knows she wasn’t the only person in the building, but she also knows that compared to her rescuer, everyone else got off pretty easy. He was the only firefighter to have been injured; all the others were minor first-degree burns on teachers and students.

A quick word at the nurse’s station – as well as more than one judgmental glance towards her out-of-season festive brownie pan – points her down the hall, and she takes a deep breath before she knocks on the door and nudges it part of the way open.

The room is quiet, the television is on low volume and there’s a rerun of Family Feud on – she enters just in time to hear Steve Harvey ask the Simmons family “ _Name something a gardener does to a lawn that you would not do to a grass skirt_ ” – so Katara tries to keep her footsteps light as she moves through the little alcove into the room, and stops short.

As luck would have it, the guy is gorgeous.

Strong jaw, high cheekbones, straight nose – he’s probably been on the cover of every fundraiser calendar the firehouse has sold in the past five years (the ones where none of them are wearing shirts – Sokka had gotten Gran-Gran one for her last birthday and everyone had been remotely appalled and amused when the calendar had hung proudly in the kitchen for the rest of the year) – and his face is pretty much flawless, except for the massive, comet-shaped scar that’s centered around his left eye. The tissue is puckered, red and warped, but somehow it doesn’t make her cringe, and it definitely doesn’t make him ugly.

Funny, she hadn’t noticed the scar earlier, behind his helmet and mask and all. But he doesn’t have any protective gear on, now – it’s just him, in a hospital gown that is doing _absolutely nothing_ to hide the toned muscles of his chest and shoulders and _good glory those biceps_ – so Katara is caught a little off guard, especially when he opens his eyes and is visibly startled to find someone in his room.

“Sorry,” she hurries to say, smiling hesitantly. “I….um…wow, I guess I should have called, uh – “

“Do I know you?”

“Well – yes and no,” she admits. He’s a little standoffish, but polite enough. “You rescued me two days ago, from the fire in the Natural Science Building at the university.”

He blinks, deadpan. “I carried about five different people out.”

 _Aren’t we an overachiever_. “Well, then I’m the one you were carrying when you got hurt.”

That makes his eyes flash in recognition. “Oh.”

She’s not sure what to say to that; in her anxiety her hands clench too hard and the aluminum brownie pan makes a loud crinkling noise. “Oh! Here – “ she hands him the pan, and his eyes immediately latch on the patterned side.

“Christmas in…July?” He doesn’t look amused, and Katara takes a second to remind herself that this man is injured and is probably in pain, and therefore reciprocating the grumpy behavior would be petty and immature. She pastes a smile on.

“Clearance rack.” She shrugs, but stiffens when he tosses the pan onto the side table.

“Well…thank you. That was, um, thoughtful…”

She blinks.

 _Thoughtful?_ She spent hours making those – okay, it was a box mix and only took about five minutes to whip together plus the twenty three minutes it took to bake them, but she hates baking so it had really truly felt like _hours_ , and then she’d taken a cab forty-five minutes out of her way just to bring them here. And he just throws them to the side – literally – like they’re not worth his time.

Her mouth opens, readying a sharp retort, but the door opens behind her.

“Ah, Zuko, the cafeteria staff are so pleasant – “ the portly gentleman stops short when he spots Katara. “Oh, forgive me – I was not aware my nephew had a visitor.”

 _Zuko_. She tests it out in her head and decides the short, abrasive consonants fit him.

“This is my Uncle Iroh,” he says in a monotone.

She offers a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Iroh.”

“Please, call me Uncle.” He doesn’t shake her hand, but sort of bows over it like she’s a duchess, and she can’t stop her smile.

“I’m Katara.”

“Very nice to meet you – my nephew has not mentioned you, I’m afraid,” he says, with a meaningful glance towards Zuko, who rolls his eyes.

“Of course I wouldn’t have mentioned her – I only met her five minutes ago when she brought me pity brownies.” The scathing, condescending tone he says this in isn’t even trying to be polite. The words bite and sting.

Katara’s jaw drops. “Wha- they’re not _pity brownies!_ ”

“No? Then what are they?” Zuko aims an irritated glare right at her, and she swiftly ignores the little voice in her head that points out the fact that he has really, really pretty eyes. Gold. Like honey.

“They’re…they’re _thank you_ brownies. You – ”

“Why would you need to thank me, I was just doing my job – “

“Yeah, well, clearly your job doesn’t have a customer service department – “

“ – you just brought me these because you felt bad, admit it – “

“Of course I feel bad, I’m the reason you got hurt anyway!”

His mouth snaps closed, and for the first time he looks a little unsure of himself. Katara glares at him for a few seconds before she realizes the childish depths to which she has sunk, arguing with a firefighter who almost died hauling her out of a burning building, and in front of his _uncle_. Her cheeks flame.

“I’m sorry,” she mutters, and readjusts her purse strap on her shoulder. “I should go…sorry for bothering you. And thanks…again.”

She scurries to the door, avoiding eye contact, and frowns to herself as she heads back towards the elevator.

She can’t quite remember the last time she made such an idiot out of herself in such a short amount of time. She got off the elevator ten minutes ago, and she’s already proven to be a complete drama queen – and over _brownies_. Though, to be fair, she thinks, he’d started the whole thing by not appreciating the gift in the first place, and then degrading it by saying it was just because she felt sorry for him.

Katara had almost laughed when he’d said that. If she feels sorry for anyone, it’s the nurses and doctors who are responsible for the health of Mr. Sunshine. She feels immensely grateful her clinicals aren’t at this hospital until next semester.

In fact, by the time she gets out of the cab in front of her apartment building, she has constructed an entire list of reasons why she shouldn’t feel the least bit guilty over the afternoon’s events, and she’s reciting that list to herself as she rummages for her keys.

She can hear Earth, Wind & Fire’s _Mighty Mighty_ blaring on her stereo before she even opens the door, and she smiles. If there’s anyone who can cheer her up, it’s her brother.

“I’m home,” she calls, and shuts the door behind her. The stereo gets turned down, and she thinks she hears whispering coming from her living room before she hears loud, bounding footsteps, and Sokka pops into view.

“Hey, sis! Welcome home – here, let me take your coat.”

She quirks an eyebrow. “It’s seventy-eight degrees outside, Sokka. I’m not wearing a coat.”

“Oh – right. Um…well, then, you hungry?” He puts an affectionate arm around her shoulders and tries to steer her towards the kitchen, but she quickly spins out of his hold and crosses her arms, pinning him down with a glare.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing!” he says quickly. Too quickly. Katara glances around, but the kitchen and foyer seem to be intact.

That’s when she hears it – a soft, suspicious tinkling, like broken glass. She’s headed to the living room before Sokka can grab her arm, and when she sees the crouching figure next to her coffee table carefully gathering ceramic shards in his hands, she yelps.

“What _happened?_ ”

Aang jerks his head up, attempting a sheepish grin. “Oh, hi, Katara! Um…me and Sokka…well, we were just watching TV, and Sokka tried to steal my phone – “

“Oh, come on, I didn’t start it, _you_ wouldn’t tell me!” Sokka turns to her pleadingly. “He’s texting a girl. Like every thirty seconds. And he won’t tell me anything – “

“It’s none of your business, Sokka – “ Aang interrupts.

“ – I’m your best buddy, I need to _know_ these things – “

“ – yeah well I don’t want you harassing her with embarrassing high school stories – “

“ – I do not _harass people_ – “

“ – oh, sure you don’t. Anyway, Katara, I wouldn’t let him have my phone, so…”

He gestures helplessly to the purple stain on the area rug, and the two shattered table lamps. Katara gapes.

“You mean…you two…both of you _grown adults_ , decided to have a wrestling match in my living room, with a glass of grape juice on the coffee table and numerous breakables?”

There’s a heartbeat of silence, before Sokka rubs the back of his head. “Uh…yeah, pretty much.” At her glare he quickly adds, “ _But_ , I’ll totally take you to get new lamps and a rug.”

“I’ll help pay for it,” Aang offers. She can tell they both feel bad, and after the afternoon she’s had, she decides she’s too tired to be upset with them.

“Fine. We’ll go shopping tomorrow.”

She drops her purse on a chair on the way to her bedroom. “Sokka, while Aang is cleaning up, why don’t you order us some dinner.”

When neither of them respond, she turns to find them both staring. “What?”

“…are you okay? Like…you’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m furious,” she assures them. “I found that rug online and paid ten dollars for shipping, and finding two matching lamps in that particular shade of blue was a total nightmare. But I’m tired and I’ve had a long day, so I’ll wait to yell at you both tomorrow.”

Sokka’s eyes narrow. “Was Rescue Man a loser or something?”

Katara rolls her eyes and turns to go shower. “Yeah. Something like that.”

/

Zuko’s head is hurting almost more than his leg is. Which is more than a little ridiculous, because the latter was crushed under a collapsed doorway, and the former is only having to put up with Uncle asking about that “lovely girl” every five minutes.

After about three hours of Uncle’s gushing over how good the brownies were – Zuko had finally tried one, just to appease the old man, and had very grumpily and reluctantly admitted to himself that they are easily the best brownies he’s ever had – he finally switches off the television.

“Uncle,” he starts, “I’m feeling a little tired.” He yawns for emphasis.

“Of course, nephew.” Uncle pushes to his feet. “I hope you sleep well tonight. I will come by sometime tomorrow – perhaps we can play some Pai Sho!”

He nods noncommittally, and after his uncle leaves he dims the lights and reclines his bed. He hadn’t been lying about being tired, but for some reason his brain refuses to shut off.

His eyes latch onto the stupid red-nosed reindeer, smiling from the backdrop of metallic blue-and-snowflakes, and before he can talk himself out of it he’s popped the lid and has half of the brownie in his mouth in one bite. He closes his eyes, wondering how a woman so incredibly annoying had managed to make something so delicious.

At the thought of his visitor, he frowns.

Maybe he was too harsh with her.

After all, several of his teammates had been hurt on the job before, and no one had brought _them_ brownies. It was, objectively, a very nice thing to do. And he probably should have said thank you a bit more sincerely, because he thinks she left with the impression that the brownies were going in the trash can the moment she left.

He bites into his third brownie in the past five minutes.

Okay, so he was a jerk. But he’d like to see anyone else act better, thirty minutes after being told they’d be out of the job for at least six months.

Zuko doesn’t even take his vacation days – what is he supposed to do with _six months_ of down time?

He sighs, and sneaks one more brownie before closing the lid. If he’s completely honest with himself, the doctor’s report hadn’t been the only thing to set him on edge this afternoon. But the other reason is completely, totally understandable and he refuses to feel guilty about it.

He’s been in the hospital for two and a half days – he can’t put weight on his leg, so he’s restricted to sponge baths (thankfully he can do those himself, and all the nurse does is bring him the water and soap), but he doesn’t feel clean and probably doesn’t smell that great, and he wakes up to find a blue-eyed, dusky-skinned woman in his room. What would any other straight guy’s reaction be?

She’d been staring when he woke up, too, so he has no idea if he’d drooled or talked in his sleep or did something equally embarrassing. He’d gone into default mode, which was abrasive and rude, and unfortunately her attractiveness increased in direct proportion to her anger, so by the time she left Zuko was as defensive as a hibernating bear and struggling to string a sentence together.

Ugh. What is wrong with him – a beautiful woman comes to his room, bakes him something, and he chases her off.

He remembers Katara’s – he’s never heard a name quite like that, but it’s uniqueness and the way the syllables flow over his tongue seem to embody something important about her – defensive glare, and the disappointed look in her eyes when he had carelessly tossed the brownies to the side.

His thoughts are derailed when a tech comes in, wheeling one of those blood pressure machines behind him. Wordlessly he holds out one arm, and the matronly woman smiles.

“It’s almost eleven-thirty – those brownies keeping you awake?”

He swallows. “Yeah. Something like that.”

 


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *THROWS TEXTBOOKS OFF A CLIFF BECAUSE I AM DONE WITH SCHOOL FOR A WHOLE ENTIRE TWO WEEKS*  
> Here’s chapter two. This is becoming addictively fun to work on. Hope you guys like it.

 

Earlier this morning, if you had asked Suki to describe a good day for her, she would have said something about her alarm working like it was supposed to, her favorite sports bra being clean, minimal traffic on the way to work, no mice in the cupboard where she keeps the protein bars, and a roomful of cheerful, ready-to-work students.

Now, if you asked her, she would say that she could handle any kind of disaster, so long as it wasn’t _him_.

Tall, already rather muscly, a perpetual smirk twisting his face; he sauntered in about five minutes ago, and has spent that time surveying the trophies and plaques she’s hung on the wall. She keeps one eye on him as she leads her class of orange belts; his fingers keep tapping against his thighs like he has a lot of nervous energy, but he doesn’t disturb the class any, so he at least has some manners.

She dismisses her students a few minutes later, and grudgingly decides to get it over with.

“Can I help you?”

He turns around, and a very, very tiny part of her notices that he has rather nice blue eyes, and his wolftail along with his tattoos make him definitely Water Tribe. There’s a pair of earbuds draped around his neck, he’s wearing a scuffed-up pair of combat boots and ratty jeans stained with engine grease and what looks like ten colored ink pens sticking out of the pockets and a t-shirt that says, “ _I tried telling a chemistry joke, but there was no reaction_ ”.

Suki takes a deep breath in through her nose, out through her mouth.

“Yeah, um, I’m thinking about taking some martial arts classes – well, me and my friend, but he couldn’t come today, he says his pet iguana is sick, but I saw that thing this morning and it is _perfectly fine_ , so I think he’s on a date and just didn’t want me to know – anyway, who’s the sensei in charge here?”

It takes her a second, to filter out the bit about pet iguanas and sneak-dating but she manages to stutter, “Um, that would be me.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You?”

“Yes,” she says more calmly. “I own this place.”

He blinks. “Oh…uh – “

“Will that be a problem?” She crosses her arms. Part of her wants him to say yes, because then he’ll leave and she won’t have to stand here and fight the urge to laugh at his stupid t-shirt ever again. The other part of her wants to say no, because if there’s one thing Suki loves more than teaching martial arts, it’s teaching martial arts to boys who think she can’t _do_ it, let alone teach it, and watching the defeat slowly enter their eyes with each passing day.

“….uh, no. No, that’s fine.” He’s still getting used to the idea, but she waits patiently.

“So, um, I’m thinking I could probably start off in the brown belt class, because I used to do karate way back when and – “ he puffs out his chest, just barely, but this guy wouldn’t know how to do _subtle_ if his life depended on it, “I probably remember most of it. Muscle memory, and all that.”

She almost lets herself laugh, but _then_ he says –

“Just…y’know, I’m looking for a challenge, right? So, are there gonna be any of my classmates I can spar with? ‘Cause, no offense, but I think I’d probably just do warm ups with you.”

 _There it is_.

She sighs. _He was kinda cute, too_ , she thinks almost sadly.

“Sorry, that level is all full.”

“Oh…well, then what about red belt?”

“That too. In fact, all of my classes are completely booked. Sorry.”

His eyes narrow. “I’m not getting a very convincing _sorry_ vibe from you,” he says suspiciously.

“That would be because I’m not actually sorry. At all.”

He takes a step back at her tone, but he suddenly can’t get another word in edgewise.

“I’ve been studying martial arts since I was four. I got my first black belt when I was eleven, and I worked two part-time jobs all through high school so I could buy this place when I was nineteen. I pay every bill, I teach every class, and you just disregarded all of that solely because of my gender. Do you honestly think I would _want_ to teach you anything?”

She’s put him on the defensive now, and he lets the backpack on his shoulder drop to the floor. “Maybe I don’t _need_ you to teach me anything.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah,” he snaps, crossing his arms. “Like I said, I’ve done martial arts before. Maybe I should go someplace else for a refresher course.”

She snorts. “Believe me, you would need a lot more than a refresher course. You’d probably have to start off with the yellow belts.”

“I would not!” he yelps. “I could probably take you, right now!”

Suki looks at him, really looks at him, and feels just a bit sorry for him. He’s not a jerk at heart, she doesn’t think so, anyway, but he’s old enough to know better. And he’s definitely too old to be kicking off his shoes and moving to the center of the mat, like they’re in high school and they’re having a scuffle in the dirt behind the gym.

“You don’t want to do that,” she says. He scowls.

“Oh, believe me, _miss_ , I do. Don’t worry, though – I won’t hit hard.”

She sets her jaw. _Okay, then_.

She moves opposite him, and takes her stance. For a moment neither of them do anything, but then he jumps forward with what Suki can tell are good reflexes, even if they’re out of practice.

He sends a fist towards her stomach. She blocks it with her knee, and in three quick moves he’s on his back on the floor, wheezing slightly.

“Lucky shot,” he gripes as he staggers to his feet. Suki rolls her eyes and splays her feet again. Clearly this idiot isn’t one of those _learn the easy way_ types, but that’s just fine with her.

In about ten minutes, she’s flipped him over her shoulder about as many times, and the last instance is when he’s finally had enough and catches her feet with his. She tumbles down on top of him, but in an almost embarrassingly short amount of time, she’s got him completely immobilized.

“I didn’t catch that last move,” she says, twisting his arm a little further. His face screws in pain where it’s pressed against the floor by her knee. “Was that the Drunken Baboon? Or the Newborn Koala-Otter?”

He grunts.

“What was that?”

“Up.”

She releases him, and he takes a couple of deep breaths before pushing himself to his feet. He straightens his clothes before turning and giving her a frosty glare that doesn’t quite manage to hide the glow of humiliation on his cheeks.

“Clearly, I made a mistake coming here. Thank you for your time,” he says stiffly, and without another word he shoves his feet back into his boots, gathers his stuff and leaves.

Suki watches him, wondering why out of all the sexist morons to come in and out that door, he’s the one she doesn’t want to go.

/

Two days later, he’s back. And this time, he’s got a boy with him – sweet looking, with kind gray eyes and a pleasant if somewhat kiddish disposition.

Suki can immediately tell that either he’s had an epiphany, or someone has knocked the sense into him, because he shuffles over to her, eyes on his shoes, and stands there for a minute or two.

“Yes…?” Suki prompts.

“Just, I…uh, m’sorry,” he mumbles.

“Beg pardon?” This is, without question, Suki’s favorite thing about dealing with guys like this. Sue her if she likes prolonging it a little.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” he snaps.

“Sorry? For what?” Suki blinks innocently. He glares for a second before he huffs, squares his shoulders and looks her dead in the eye.

“For being a douchebag.”

That surprises her a little. Her arms uncross.

“And for attacking you. And assuming you weren’t qualified at your job. And for maybe accidentally-on-purpose looking down your shirt while we were fighting.”

Suki barely, just _barely_ manages to keep from laughing. What’s worse is his friend– overhears him.

“Sokka!”

“What?” he demands. “I thought feminists don’t like it when guys do that sort of stuff – that’s why I’m _apologizing for it_.”

“They – but you _don’t –_ ,” his friend sighs. “Nevermind. I’ll be over here. Please don’t make her beat you up again.” He sends Suki an apologetic look, and walks over to look at the pictures she’s got by the door, of students holding up trophies and receiving medals at tournaments.

She cuts her eyes at him.

“You looked down my shirt.”

He blanches, just a little. “Look – I said I was sorry about that. And I am. And I won’t do it anymore. Unless you want me to. Not that – not that I’m expecting you to – but don’t think – “

Suki can’t hold her laughter anymore, and while he looks a tad miffed that she’s laughing at his distress, he looks infinitely relieved that she’s not angry anymore.

“Apology accepted,” she says once she can breathe again.

He smiles. “Good. So, um. Is it still okay if Aang and I come here?”

She shrugs. “Sure. I don’t have any classes your level right now, so it would be just the three of us. Let me meet your friend, and we’ll set up a schedule.”

Twenty minutes later, and she has the boys down for three nights a week; Suki waves them off, closes up, and hails a cab for the Upper Ring.

The doorman’s expecting her – as always. He takes her coat and she hurries through the foyer into the sitting room.

“Hi, Uncle.”

The older man stands up quickly, setting aside his crossword puzzle.

“Suki, my dear. How are you?”

She kisses his cheek. “I’m fine. How’s the invalid?”

Uncle smiles. “Oh, his leg is making wonderful progress. He walked three times around his room today!”

“So he’s still in a really pissy mood, then.”

At her blunt (but one _thousand_ percent accurate) guess, Uncles shoulders droop slightly. “Ah…yes. Yes, I’m afraid so.”

She nods. “Okay. If the screaming hasn’t stopped in ten minutes, come with tea and his sleeping pill.”

“Good luck,” Uncle grins, knowing his nephew will never win this one.

Not that he’s ever won _any_ , to begin with.

/

Zuko is really, really tired of this bed.

He’s tired of the monotonous cycle of the ceiling fan. Of losing the same level of Tetris over and over and over again – who for the love of _Agni_ invented that _one_ shape that no one _ever_ needs – and of flipping through endless channels of uninteresting television. It would just be his luck that he’d get laid up in the summer, when all of his favorite shows are only doing reruns.

He’s trying to decide if he’d rather watch another Harry Potter marathon (there’s been three in the month since his injury – he’s a fan and all, but _seriously?_ ) or a documentary about how Skittles are made, but he jumps and drops the remote when his door crashes open.

He sighs. “Hi, Suki.”

“Uncle says you’re being a baby and need to get over yourself.”

“Uncle never calls me names. He knows it hurts my feelings.”

She smiles. “Well, that’s good – you’re only sarcastic if you already know you’re being stupid and are in the process of improving your behavior.”

He rolls his eyes and says, “Thanks for the diagnosis, shrink,” which earns him a thwack on the head with a pillow. Suki settles contentedly on the other side of the mattress, near the foot and turned to face him. Her penetrating gaze is something that he’s never gotten comfortable with, even after all their years of friendship, and after a few seconds he scowls.

“Spit it out, Suki.”

“You first.”

Typical. He really ought to know better by now than to try and hide stuff from her –

“Oh – no, you’re not – are you _still_ wigged out over Brownie Lady?”

\- especially when she can usually guess whatever it is, anyway.

“I’m not _wigged out_ – “

“Really, would you like a mirror? Zuko, you’re so dramatic – ”

“ – just, they were really good brownies, okay – “

“ – well I wouldn’t know that, now would I, seeing as how you didn’t save me so much as a _crumb_ – “

“ – and I was a total jerk – “

“Zuko,” Suki sighs. “It’s not like you’re ever going to see her again, okay? Quit stressing about it and focus on getting better.”

He chews his tongue, thinking that not ever seeing her again is exactly the problem, but he doesn’t know how to say it without sounding stupid, so he huffs. “Fine. Let’s play Pai Sho.”

She snorts, but gets up to find the board and pieces. “You suck at Pai Sho.”

“Even losing is better than watching the Prisoner of Azkaban again.”

Her jaw drops. “You idiot, that’s the best one – “

“It is not – they open with Harry doing magic for homework when that actually happens to be illegal – “

“ – but Tom Felton is like, a _god_ in that one – “

“ – not to mention they completely screwed up the timing with the Firebolt – “

As Suki launches into her tirade on how the Prisoner of Azkaban is infinitely better than Zuko’s favorite (Half-Blood Prince), he feels himself relaxing, because Suki’s right – it’s not like he’ll ever see her again.

 


	3. 3

Zuko lets out a long, frustrated breath through his teeth.

“It itches.” He’s well aware that he sounds like a petulant five-year-old, but he’s too irritated to care. It doesn’t help that the doctor’s mouth twitches in what is almost a smile before her features are schooled.

“Yes, I’m afraid that will be the case. But the good news is, the bones are healing nicely, so you’ll have this for only a few more weeks.”

He frowns. “But they told me I’d have to wait six months before I could work again.”

“You will,” she affirms, and his shoulders slump dejectedly. “Even when you don’t have to wear the boot anymore, your leg won’t be strong enough for that kind of physical activity for another month or two. But you’ve made tremendous progress, so just be patient. You’ll be back to normal in no time.”

He nods, and tries to absorb some of her optimism.

“Thank you, Dr. Song.” Uncle rises from his chair in the corner, and helps Zuko stay balanced as he pushes to his feet for the first time in two months.

“How does it feel?”

He shifts his weight, trying to get used to the feeling of the giant, plastic-metal boot with Velcro straps. “Sore,” he says honestly. “But I kind of expected that.”

Dr. Song nods again. “I can tell you’ve been doing your physical therapy,” Zuko suppresses a scowl – he absolutely hates PT, “So as long as you keep that up, the soreness will go away before very long.”

She has some more instructions, and vetoes the idea of stairs – which means Zuko’s stuck at Uncle’s place for now, since his apartment building’s elevator has been out of service for almost a year. A few minutes later, and Zuko is hobbling out to the car, trying to focus more on the fact that he’s rid of those stupid crutches and less on the way Uncle is hovering just behind him in case he falls.

The car ride is silent, and Zuko is grateful – he could have gotten worse news, certainly, but he couldn’t help that a small part of him had been hoping to walk in and be told that he’d made a miraculous overnight recovery.

“I forgot to tell you,” Uncle suddenly says. “Suki called this morning, and asked if you could come to the academy tomorrow tonight. She has two new students she wants you to meet.”

Zuko’s eyes narrow. “She better not be trying to set me up again. After what happened with Jin – “

His uncle laughs. “Relax, my nephew. The two students are both young men, close to your age. Suki says they’re not far below you in class division, and thought perhaps you could offer some constructive criticism.”

“Uh…sure.” For some reason, Zuko’s looking forward to it – he’s been the only guy in his class for years now. Any others that came didn’t last long, probably because they were more focused on the roomful of girls than learning anything. Having two guys his age will be nice.

 

/

The next day, Zuko almost re-breaks his leg four different times within two hours of getting out of bed. Once on his phone charger, twice on piles of books that Suki and Uncle kept bringing him, and then on the lip of the stand-alone shower.

The last one rattles him more than he’d like to admit, mostly because the floor’s wet and slippery and so he has a little bit of a hard time regaining his balance, and for a second he’s convinced he’s going to rip the towel rack right out of the drywall, but everything holds and his leg doesn’t hurt, but it feels weak, much, much weaker than he’s used to, and he doesn’t like it one bit.

He makes himself take his time on the walk, though, and by the time he pulls open the door to the Kyoshi Warrior Academy, he’s in a better mood than he has been in months, and it only gets better when Suki spots him.

“Hey stranger,” she teases. He grins and hugs her back.

“Hi, Sensei. Am I late?”

“Nope. You’re right on time.” She gestures to the door behind him, and he turns in time to see two young men walk through. They’re talking and joking about something, but when they see Zuko they sort of clam up.

Zuko looks at the younger one first. He’s slender but wiry, and he has a blue fauxhawk and unusual tattoos on his hands and feet, but there’s a youthful, kind look to his gray eyes that tells Zuko this guy wouldn’t hurt a flea.

His friend could have been on the wrestling team in high school. He’s tall and broad-shouldered and deep-chested, with Water Tribe tattoos and an undercut and one earring glinting in the fluorescent lighting but he’s wearing a muscle shirt that says ‘ _I work out so I can climb the staircases at Hogwarts’_ so Zuko doesn’t really peg him for bad boy. He reminds Zuko of someone, but he can’t put his finger on who.

The first one smiles and puts out a hand. “I’m Aang. This is Sokka. You must be Zuko – Suki’s told us you were coming.”

“Hi.” Zuko nods politely, and hides his smirk when he notices Sokka’s eyes barely give him a glance before riveting on Suki.

“Okay,” she says, oblivious. “Zuko can’t train with you guys yet, obviously, so he’s gonna sit on the side lines and give you some pointers. He’s been doing this for a long time, almost as long as I have, so anything he says is worth listening to.”

“Yes ma’am,” Aang replies cheerfully, and the two of them head back to the locker rooms to change. Once they disappear Zuko leans closer.

“I think that Sokka guy has a crush on you-know-who,” he stage-whispers.

Suki shoots him a glare. “Shut up.”

“I’m serious. He couldn’t stop looking at you.”

To his surprise, her cheeks flush a faint pink. His jaw drops. “Suki…do…do you _like_ him?”

She chews her lip for a second. “I don’t know,” she confesses. “I mean, he’s been here a month now, but when I first met him he was a complete jerk – he’s the one I had to literally beat just to make him see I _could_ – “

“Wha- okay, _whoa_ ,” he puts his hands up. “Hang on. _That’s_ the sexist guy from a month ago you were telling me about? The one who came back the same week and admitted to perving on you?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes. But, like I said, he’s been here a whole month and he’s been nothing like that ever since. He’s really sweet and funny, and I don’t think he was truly sexist, he just didn’t know any better – “

“Suki.” Zuko stares in disbelief. She’s _never_ been like this before, and he has to admit it’s equally funny, concerning, and just a little bit endearing. He puts his hands on her shoulders. “Breathe. Okay? You’re his teacher right now. If you want to see if there’s something else there, take your time with it. If he’s really interested, he’ll give you all the time you need.”

She breathes in, slowly, and lets it out, smiling. “What would I do without you?”

“Probably go to Uncle for relationship advice.” He shudders, and she looks horrified.

He laughs just as Sokka and Aang come back in, and then they’re all focused for the next couple of hours. Zuko’s relatively impressed with both of them – they have decent agility, coordination, and clearly their flexibility is getting better every day.

All in all, it’s a productive work-out, even if Sokka tells some of the _dumbest_ jokes Zuko’s ever had the misfortune of hearing, and Aang gets distracted when a moth finds its way inside and catches it so he can let it back out.

They’re all sitting around afterwards, the guys sipping their water bottles and listening to Aang’s recounting of his philosophy class that day, when Sokka’s phone beeps. He frowns at the screen before tapping and pressing it to his ear.

“Hello? Yeah…no, we’re still here….what? Oh, now, see I _told_ you to get it checked, the engine light is there for a reason, y’know…all right, all right! Just have the cab bring you here and you can ride home with me and Aang. Kay. Bye.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s my sister,” he explains for Suki and Zuko. “Her car broke down and taking a cab all the way to her apartment can be kinda pricey. She’ll be here soon.”

“Where did it break down?” Aang asks.

“On campus – near the Mathematics Center.”

“Your sister’s in school here?” Suki wants to know.

“Yeah. Pre-med. Our dad tried to get her to go for political science, so she could help him out back home, but Katara’s nothing if not headstrong.”

Every single muscle in Zuko’s body freezes.

No way.

No. _Way_.

He peers closely at Sokka, trying to find something, but no such luck – same skin tone, same eye color, same nose. His stomach is doing this really weird clenching thing that he’s not sure comes from excitement or fear. He debates the merits of hiding in the bathroom, but before he can do anything, the door opens behind him.

“Oh, hi, Katara – “ Aang starts, but is rudely interrupted.

“ _You?”_

When he hears that voice, Zuko winces. He _knows_ that voice, and what’s more, he knows that voice when it’s angry and directed at _him_. Slowly, he turns his head, and has to fight the urge to cower right where he’s sitting.

She’s wearing gray sweatpants with coffee stains, ratty, scuffed up sneakers, and a t-shirt that’s easily three sizes too big – the neck has slipped to the side and he can see more smooth brown skin than can be considered healthy for his blood pressure. He doesn’t remember what she wore that day at the hospital, but it was definitely nicer than this ensemble, and somehow she’s even prettier than he remembers. It’s completely unfair.

To cap it all off, she’s pinned him with that blue-eyed glare that he will not _ever_ be able to forget. He swallows.

“Um…hi?”

He doesn’t miss the way her gaze travels down his frame; something in her face twitches when she notices the boot, but she doesn’t say anything, only frowns harder once her eyes meet his again.

“What are you doing here?”

“Whoa, wait a second.” Suki interjects, holding out a friendly hand. “I’m Suki – I’m the instructor.”

Katara’s face, much like it did when she’d met Uncle, instantly morphs into a pleasant smile. “Hi – I’m Sokka’s sister, Katara. Nice to meet you.”

Suki looks a little thrown off by the sudden mood swing, but Sokka beats her to the punch.

“Hey, sis – how do you know Zuko?”

To Zuko’s surprise, Katara looks embarrassed, and shrugs. “He’s the guy who carried me out of the fire.”

Suki’s eyes widen comically; Zuko can see the words formulate in her brain and mentally begs her not to say them, but –

“You – _you’re_ Brownie Lady?”

“ _He’s_ the angry jerk from the hospital??” Sokka yelps. Zuko doesn’t protest, given that he knows good and well that he deserved that one, but Katara for some reason looks even angrier.

“ _Brownie Lady?_ What – you’ve told people about the demonic girl who brought you _pity brownies_ and how she was so horrible?”

Zuko swallows again. “Actually, I – “

“How long was I gone before you threw them away, actually, because I think you should pay me back for the mix since it was obviously a waste – “

“I’ve told Suki about you,” Zuko interrupts, desperate to just make her _stop_ _yelling_ at him because she was really _really_ pretty when she was mad and if she kept going he was going to go insane. “She’s my best friend, so of course I would tell her about the really nice gesture someone did for me and how I was a total idiot in return, because I was actually kind of upset that I wouldn’t be able to apologize for it!”

Ringing silence. Suki looks like she’s madly fighting the urge to laugh, Sokka and Aang both look equally skeptical and amused, and Katara…well. She looks like someone just handed her a million dollars and she has no idea what to do with it.

“You…you wanted to apologize?”

He nods, trying not to notice that they have an audience for what should be a private conversation. “Since the second you left. They were really good brownies, by the way.”

She blinks. “So, you ate them? Like, all of them?”

Zuko’s surprised to find himself smiling. “I had the last one for breakfast the next day. Really pissed off my nurse.”

She scoffs. “Well, I won’t be held responsible for your uncooperative behavior.” Zuko dares to hope that the faint glimmer in her eyes means he’s forgiven, but he catches Suki’s meaningful nod, and sighs.

“Look, I’m sorry. You…you just caught me at a bad time…I’d just found out that I’d be out of work for a while, and I hate taking vacations, so I was frustrated and irritable and took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Suki, from her spot just behind Katara’s shoulder, mouths _Go on_. Zuko almost rolls his eyes.

“The, um, the brownies were really nice of you. And I did appreciate it, even if I didn’t act like it.”

Katara studies him for a moment before slowly walking closer, and extending one hand down to him. Cautiously, he takes it, and with surprising strength she hauls him to his feet.

“Apology accepted,” she says quietly. “And you shouldn’t be doing martial arts when your leg is broken in two different places.”

“Three,” he corrects without thinking, and immediately winces. “Not, um…not that I’m keeping count. Just, uh, I’m not actually doing anything, I was just helping Suki with some stuff – “

“Zuko’s been giving me and Sokka some tips!” Aang chimes in.

“Oh?” Katara glances over at her brother, who’s still glaring at Zuko. “Sokka, quit it. He said he was sorry.”

“Yeah, sorry for being rude. He hasn’t apologized for putting you in a crabby mood for that whole day, and for making me and Aang suffer the consequences.”

Katara’s mouth drops open. “You – I wasn’t crabby,” she snaps. “I was mad at you two goons because you decided you were going to wrestle in my living room and ruined my lamps and carpet – “

“Yeah, but you made us go _furniture shopping_ with you the next day – “

“Oh, please, Sokka, you love shopping more than I do…”

“That’s not the point! What _is_ the point is that this guy increased the chances of me and Aang dying at your hands!”

He pins Zuko with his own glare, and Zuko has to admit it’s not nearly as scary as Katara’s, but he starts to open his mouth and apologize again – though for what, exactly, he’s not sure – when a hand claps over his mouth.

“So, what you’re saying is, I’m irrational and unable to control my actions just because I don’t have a good day?”

Sokka blinks, and glances over at Suki. Behind Katara’s hand, Zuko fights a grin of his own. “Um…no. No, that is not what I’m saying. I just don’t appreciate some guy being a jerk to my sister. Yep. That’s all.”

“Well, as much as I appreciate your brotherly concern,” Katara replies sarcastically, “He’s already apologized for his behavior, and I think we can all stop being angry with him now.”

She releases Zuko’s mouth, and Sokka shuffles his feet. “Right. Um. Okay, so, are we ready to leave yet?”

Katara rolls her eyes. “Yes, just a second.” She turns to Zuko.

“I’m sorry you can’t work for a while,” she says softly. Zuko blinks and coughs, finding himself completely unprepared for what it feels like to be on the receiving end of her smile. “But I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

One of her hands moves forward again, and she squeezes his forearm before releasing it and heading towards the door.

“It was nice to meet you, Suki.”

“You too,” Suki replies warmly. “Stop by any time.”

The boys nod their farewells, and once the door finally shuts behind them, Suki turns a full-force Cheshire grin on Zuko.

“I think you-know-who has a crush on Miss Brownie Lady,” she whispers loudly.

He chucks his empty water bottle at her head. “Shut up.”


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have I mentioned this was originally supposed to be a one-shot. HA.

 

“Higher.”

Sokka grits his teeth, plants his other foot, and kicks.

“Good.” Zuko nods from his chair against the wall, and Suki smiles in agreement. It’s hard for Sokka to not smile hugely in return. But he doesn’t want to.

Well, okay, maybe he wants to. He definitely wants to. But he doesn’t _want_ to want to. Maybe that’s it.

“I think we’re good for today,” Suki decides a few minutes later. “Great practice, guys.” Sokka watches her walk away before he sees the smirk on Zuko’s face, and he turns the other direction, his own cheeks flushing slightly. He sips from his water bottle and wishes he had never set foot inside the Kyoshi Warrior Academy, because then he would have never gotten his butt kicked by the scariest yet simultaneously sweetest woman he has ever encountered, and subsequently wouldn’t have been introduced to her friend whose favorite facial expression varies between a scowl or that stupid _I-know-you-think-she’s-pretty_ smirk.

But since he has, unfortunately, set foot inside this place, he knows there’s nothing that can keep him from coming back over and over again. To just quit and walk away now would be about as painful as cutting off his right thumb.

He’s distracted from his troubles by his phone ringing, and he frowns when Katara’s name flashes on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Sokka – wait, no, I’m not sure you know – oh, that’s _wonderful_ , really, _thank you_ so _much_ – “

“Um…Katara?” He can hear the venomous sarcasm practically dripping from her words, and he’s thankful it’s not directed at him.

“Sorry. I just – _would you please just get out from under my hood!_ Sokka, I – “

“Hang on.” Sokka can feel his hackles rising, going from annoyed sibling to big-brother mode in seconds. From the corner of his eye, he sees Aang and Zuko both tense at the tone his voice has taken. “Who’s under your _what_ , now?”

Katara sighs. “Sokka, relax, it’s my _car_. It’s broken down again and some idiot thought he could fix it but I think he’s just made it worse, so I’ll probably have to get it towed – no I _do not_ need your help calling a tow truck, I need you to _leave_ – “ Her voice has gotten loud enough for Zuko and Aang to hear, and he sees the same wide-eyed looks on their faces when they realize how pissed Katara sounds.

“Sis.” Sokka shoves his shoes back on, and he’s not surprised to see the guys doing the same. Suki comes out of her office right then, and Zuko catches her up in a hurried whisper while Sokka tries to get a sensible answer from Katara. “Where are you?”

“Same place as last time, in front of the math building.”

“Okay. Do you want me to stay on the phone with you until we get there? It sounds like this guy is bothering you…”

“No, I’m fine,” she responds. “He’s not creepy, just really stupid and annoying – _yes_ , I’m talking about you, don’t _pout_ , what are you, twelve? – so if you guys just get here soon I’ll be okay.”

Part of him wants to insist she stay on the line, but he knows he can trust his sister’s judgement. “Alright. We’ll be there soon. Call me if you need to, okay?”

“I will. Bye.”

He slides his phone into his back pocket, and turns to see Aang, Suki, and Zuko all standing ready. The latter has an old metal toolbox under one arm, and he shrugs at Sokka’s quizzical glance.

“I know how to do some minor repairs on cars.”

“Great. Let’s go.”

/

Katara counts to ten for what feels like the umpteenth time over the past hour. “Like I said, my brother and his friend are on their way. They’ll help me, so I’ll be fine until they get here.”

“Okay,” the guy nods – Cheng, he’d said even though she hadn’t asked – and leans, in a not-casually-trying-to-look-casual way, against her car. “So, d’you want to get some ice cream or something while we’re waiting?”

“No.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind, ‘cause there’s this great little place not far from here that makes the _best_ sundaes, y’know? Like, this one time I –“

Katara is seriously considering getting into her car and locking the door, but a car horn cuts him off midsentence, and she’s never been more grateful for her brother’s protective side, because the dojo’s almost twenty minutes away and he made it here in less than half that.

To her surprise, though, Suki’s red Jeep pulls in right behind him, and she fights a smile. Typical Sokka, bringing reinforcements for a broken down car.

All four of them exit at the same time, and the way they strut across the pavement towards her – well, Zuko’s more of a limp, since he got his boot taken off last week and is forced to use a cane until his leg is stronger, but even he’s still really quite intimidating, and she’d feel sorry for Cheng if he hadn’t been so La-forsaken _annoying_.

She turns to him, smiling brightly. “See? I’ve got it handled.”

“Well – “

“That was her polite way of saying get out of here,” Zuko says from behind her. She glances over her shoulder, surprised at the dangerous tone in his voice, but she looks to the front just in time to see Cheng’s eyes widen comically.

“Y-you!” He tries to back up too fast, stumbles, and knocks the side-view mirror crooked.

“Me,” Zuko agrees. He places both hands on his cane, looking almost like a doting grandfather looking for an excuse to hand out candy, but there isn’t a single doubt in Katara’s mind that he can use the cane for a weapon even better than he uses it for support. “How’s your friend, by the way? His nose heal straight?”

“How’s your sister?” Cheng fires back. Katara doesn’t like the gleam in his eye, and she definitely doesn’t like the long pause before Zuko answers, his voice tighter and angrier.

“She’s fine. But you won’t be if you don’t leave in the next five seconds.”

“What, should I be scared?” Cheng scoffs, but it’d be hard to miss the nervous look he throws towards both Zuko and Suki.

“I would be,” the latter answers calmly. “Because he probably started counting four seconds ago.”

Cheng scowls, and with a final glance in Katara’s direction (one that she meets with a glare of her own), he turns and stomps away. She sighs.

“Thanks, guys. Suki, you didn’t have to close up early just for this – it’s just a little car trouble.”

The other girl smiles. “It’s no problem. I don’t have any more classes today, plus Zuko might need supervision.”

Zuko scowls. “Suki, I’m fixing a car, not running a marathon. Pretty sure I can handle that.”

“You’re probably right,” she agrees demurely, but winks at Katara once his back is turned.

“You know how to fix cars?” Katara asks.

He shrugs. “Just minor stuff. If there’s any parts needing to be replaced, you’ll have to get it towed somewhere. But I might be able to get it running long enough to drive it to a shop. Save you the towing fee, at least.”

Sokka peers into the engine beside him. “Hmm….wow, that guy had _no_ clue what he was doing….why did you let him near this?”

“I didn’t. _He_ let _himself_ near it,” Katara says crossly. Aang sidles up next to her and nudges her with a friendly elbow.

“You okay?”

She smiles. “I’m fine. Just tired of this stupid car.”

“Don’t talk about it like that where it can hear you,” Sokka warns, his voice muffled as he joins Zuko, doubled over the engine. “Your car is temperamental enough as it is.”

The boys tinker for a few minutes, and she tries not to breathe over their shoulders but doesn’t miss Zuko’s wince when he gets a closer look, and he exchanges a glance with her brother. “What? Is it bad?”

“Well, um…it’s not…good…” Zuko answers lamely. He tries for a sheepish grin. Katara adamantly _does not notice_ the fact that he has a dimple in his cheek and it makes him look almost cute.

“Alright…Sokka, do you still have the number of that place you went to last year to get your wheels realigned?”

“Yeah, but they’ve moved,” he scratches his head. “They’re in the Upper Ring now, which means their prices have probably doubled.”

“Don’t worry,” Zuko smiles. “I know just the place.”

/

It’s probably more than a little petty to be happy that Katara needs help, because that means he’s happy she’s having car trouble in the first place. But Zuko can’t quite stop feeling just a tiny bit victorious when he remembers the grateful smile she gave him when the tow truck had pulled in.

He shuts the door of Suki’s Jeep, and curses the stupid cane again. He’s twenty-four, not eighty. He shouldn’t _need_ a cane.

Stupid collapsing doorway.

He’s just turned to say something that might just _possibly_ be classified as a whine to Suki when he notices Aang.

“Uh…you okay?”

The guy looks almost panicked.

“What? Who, me? Yeah – I’m great. Totally great!”

The rest of them frown, but Aang bounces on his toes, apparently eager to not discuss whatever it is that isn’t bothering him, so Zuko shrugs and leads them to the back of the shop.

The place is pretty busy, but he passes all of the regular mechanics and knocks on the office door. It’s yanked open a few seconds later, and he smiles.

“Hey, Toph.”

“Sparky!” The short girl punches him solidly in the chest, and he sways a little. “Heard on the news you got hurt. Pretty stupid of you, running into a burning building.”

He rolls his eyes, even though she won’t know. “Running into burning buildings is part of my job description, Toph.”

“You need a change of careers then. How’s Gramps?”

“He’s fine. He wants more teacups, but hasn’t had time to order them yet.”

“Let me know what color and I’ll make ‘em when I get time. We’ve been swamped all month. Your bike having trouble again?”

“No, I actually brought a friend this time. Her car’s been having trouble starting. She’s here with her brother and another friend. Suki’s here, too.”

“Hello, Toph,” she responds, and Toph greets her too, before shuffling forward to stare at the three newcomers. Her sightless eyes rove over Katara, Sokka, and pause on Aang, and when she cocks her head and smiles, his panicked look only intensifies.

“That you, Twinkletoes?”

Aang sighs. “Yeah. Hi, Toph.”

She frowns. “Well, don’t sound so excited.”

“Sorry,” he says quickly. “It’s just – this is Katara and Sokka, my friends – “

“Sokka?” Toph says with an evil grin. “The meat friend you were telling me about? The one who reenacts all of the lightsaber duels from Star Wars and owns twelve different Rubik’s Cubes?”

Zuko comes dangerously close to choking on his own spit. Katara presses her fingers to her mouth to hide her smile from an outraged Sokka.

“You – _you’re_ the girl Aang’s been texting!” He points dramatically, as if accusing her of some heinous crime.

“Yup,” Toph replies cheerfully. “That means that the lady with the persnickety auto is your sister. Nice to meet you, Sweetness.”

Katara blushes. “Um…e-excuse me? I’m…I’m Katara.”

“Oh, sure, _technically_ ,” Toph waves her hand. “But from all the crap you put up with from Snoozles and Twinks, you’re Sweetness cause somehow you’re still nice. Me, I woulda killed them both a long time ago.”

With a laugh, Katara says, “Trust me, I’ve been tempted. Nice to meet you.”

“Alrighty, now we all know each other. What’s the deal?”

“We have no idea,” Zuko supplies. The snort he gets in return doesn’t surprise him.

“Of course you don’t. That’s why you need me.” Toph leads them back out front, weaving through piles of tools and spare tires with ease. The other mechanics know to stay out of her way, and once she gets to Katara’s car, she shoves the hood up and starts running her fingers over the metal. Pieces of frizzy black hair fall in front of her eyes, but Zuko’s been coming to this garage long enough to know how Toph works. Her nimble fingertips tell her more about the car than his eyes ever could, and it’s only a few minutes of tinkering later when she straightens and turns to face them all, her eyes focused somewhere near Sokka’s right ear.

“Well, Sweetness, I hate to tell you bad news, but this hunk of metal won’t be drivable for another week or so.”

“A week?” Katara’s face falls. “How much is it going to cost?”

“Not as much as you think. I have all the parts I need right here, except for one, but it’s not the cheapest. You’ll probably ring up somewhere in the ballpark of five to six-fifty.”

“Hundred? _Dollars?_ ”

“Yep.” Toph pops her gum. “Sorry.”

Katara sighs. “That’s okay. Do…do you, um, let people pay a little at a time? I have a job, but it might take me a while, it’s just – “

“No worries.” Toph waves a hand. “You can pay whenever you’re good and ready. Any friend of Sparky and GI Jane is a friend of mine.”

“Wow.” Katara blinks. “Um, thank you. I promise I’ll make all of my payments on time, thank you so much for being so understanding, I’ll save all my tip money and everything – “

Toph turns to Aang, smiling. “She’s just like you said. Nice almost to a fault.”

All eyes turn to watch the shy smile and pink flush on Katara’s cheeks – Zuko swallows and looks away quickly, and winces when Toph’s head turns his way, that smirk beginning to twist across her face.

“Alright, we should probably get going,” he announces quickly. He’s almost positive he hears Toph snort, as well as mutter something akin to “Coward,” but he’s not about ask. He heads back towards the cars, when Suki stops him.

“Hey – let’s take them over to Uncle’s for lunch!”

He freezes, fingers stretched out for the door handle.

“Who?” Katara asks.

“Zuko’s uncle lives in the Upper Ring. He’s great, you’ll love him. And he would love nothing more than to have company for lunch.”

Zuko desperately wants to point out that Uncle was already going to have him and Suki for lunch, and _that_ counted as company, but he couldn’t find a way to string the words together that didn’t sound rude.

“Toph, want to join?”

“Can’t.” She pops her gum. “Up to my ears in work. You want to bring me some of his jasmine tea and those sweet and sour dumplings, though, I won’t turn them down.”

“I’ll bring it by for supper,” Suki promises, and they all wave good-bye (Aang gets an affectionately-painful punch to the arm) as Toph walks back inside. Suki turns to the remaining three. “So just you guys, then?”

Katara bites her lip. “Oh – are you sure? We’d hate to just barge in…”

“Sis.” Sokka drapes an arm around Katara’s shoulders. “Why are we saying no to _free food?_ ”

She rolls her eyes. “Because we’ve never met the man, Sokka. Well, I have, and he probably thinks I’m crazy – “

“Nah.” Suki pulls out her phone. “Uncle doesn’t think anyone’s crazy unless they’ve tried to frame him for a felony.”

Zuko snorts, unable to stop himself despite the confused looks coming from the other three. Suki winks while the phone dials. “Hey, Uncle! I’m fine – a friend of ours had some car trouble today, so Zuko and I went with them to the shop…yeah, we took them to Beifong’s. Yeah. Anyway, would it be alright for them to join us for lunch? It’d be three of them…okay? Great – thanks! Okay, no problem. Bye.”

Uncle’s excited tones had carried over the sound of drills from the garage, traffic from the nearby freeway, and Zuko’s stomach twists tighter and tighter with every syllable. Suki hangs up and beams.

“He says he’d love for you all to come, but he needs some stuff from the grocery first. So…” She fishes her keys out of her pocket and tosses them to Katara. “You take Zuko on, he’ll show you how to get there. I’ll go with these guys and stop at the store.”

Zuko’s eyes slide shut. Why does _every_ person in his life have to be so conspiratorial?

“Um…okay…” Katara’s unsure, but she takes one step towards the Jeep. “You sure?”

“Yeah!” Suki’s already got the passenger door to Sokka’s gray pickup open. “Zuko needs to get home and off his leg, and someone needs to tell the guys how to get there. So this is fine.”

Katara nods, more convinced now that this is the most helpful plan and so, of course, she has no more arguments, and she tugs the door open and climbs in. Zuko catches Suki’s eye and sends her the most powerful glare he can muster. Once he gets in his phone buzzes.

_You can thank me later._

This time, it’s his turn to send the rude hand gesture emoji.

 


	5. 5

 

Katara taps her fingers on the steering wheel, wondering if it would be rude to turn the radio on. She’s quickly discovering that the only thing more awkward than making accidental eye contact with the person in the car next to you at a red light, is making accidental eye contact with a person you don’t know very well who happens to be sitting in the car _with_ you.

And that’s happened four times already.

She clears her throat. _Come on, Katara, you can do this, just talk_. “So, um…how…how’s the leg feeling?”

Inwardly, she rolls her eyes at herself – Zuko’s probably sick of that question. Plus it’s obviously feeling much better, given that he’s hardly limping even with a cane.

“It’s still sore sometimes, but it’s better. I’m just glad I can almost walk normally again.”

She blinks. Wow. She’d been expecting a short, terse, “fine, thanks,” and instead she received what could very easily be interpreted as a conversation starter. Hm.

“Even after you’re back to walking, will you have to wait to go back to work?”

He pulls a face. “Unfortunately. My job involves a little bit more than just walking, so I’ll spend the next three months or so getting back in shape.”

Katara is very much aware that Zuko’s not actually _out_ of shape – over the past two months or so since their second official meeting, she’s been frequenting the dojo more and more on her way home from classes – but she doesn’t say that. Instead she laughs, a little nervously, which earns a quizzical glance from the passenger seat.

“What?”

She shrugs. “Nothing. I’m just trying to imagine you running up a ladder with your cane in one hand.”

He grins reluctantly. “Don’t think I didn’t consider it.” There’s a dry honesty in his voice, and she looks at him in surprise.

“Wow…you were really serious about the hating time off thing.”

“Yeah…I like to stay busy. Turn left at the next light,” he instructs, and she flicks her blinker on. Suddenly she’s reminded of their destination, and she feels apprehensive once more.

“Are you sure your uncle won’t mind three total strangers dropping in for lunch?”

He snorts. “I’m willing to bet that within thirty minutes he’s going to have all of your birthdays on his calendar and make sure you’ll come over for dinner one day next week.”

She can’t help but smile at the fond exasperation she hears. “Sounds like you two are close.”

“We are,” he replies, more quietly, but just as fondly. “He and Suki are all the family I really have.”

That statement brings a question to the very tip of Katara’s tongue, but she remembers Zuko’s voice when Cheng had asked about his sister, and she keeps silent.

The rest of the car ride passes in a silence that’s much less uncomfortable than it had been to start with, and she counts it as a win. There’s something about this man, something that makes her pause when glancing him over. He’s got hidden layers to him, sequestered away from the world like he’s ashamed them, but she can’t help but think that he’s probably a much better person than he gives himself credit for.

When she pulls into the indicated driveway, she desperately tries not to stare.

“You – your uncle _lives_ here?”

“Uh-huh.” He looks a little flustered. “I mean – it’s just him, I have an apartment in the Middle Ring but I can’t do stairs yet and the elevator’s broken, but – “

“It’s amazing,” she says, and she means it. The house is big, but not ostentatiously so, with serene, Fire Nation themed landscaping and a dragon carved into the front door.

After a moment, he steps out. “Come on.”

Katara follows him meekly up the front walk, stepping inside the brightly lit foyer when he holds the door for her.

“Uncle,” he calls, and she hears a distant sound like an oven door being shut before the stout man from the hospital bustles into view. When he sees her, he starts in surprise.

“Why, Miss Katara,” he exclaims, rushing forward to give her a grandfatherly hug. “Suki did not say you were to be our guest.”

“I hope we’re not intruding,” she begins, but he’s taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow, ushering her down the hall and into a big kitchen, before she can get another word out.

“Nonsense,” he says. “Suki told me about your brother and friend attending her martial arts classes – what a strange coincidence. Although I am pleased to see that you two have put past disagreements to rest.”

He directs the last bit toward Zuko, who rolls his eyes, but he’s fighting a smile, too. Katara feels a little of the apprehension leave her shoulders. She takes a look around the kitchen. There’s a pile of dirty dishes in the sink, a pot of soup on the back burner, something’s in the oven that smells like paradise itself, and Uncle has a big pile of fresh vegetables on the counter that he’s halfway through chopping up for a salad.

When she slides onto one of the counter stools, Zuko takes the one next to her. She doesn’t miss the sigh that escapes him as he takes the weight off his leg, and automatically she feels herself going into what Sokka calls her ‘mother-mode’ (she likes to think of it as an ‘I’m-going-to-be-a-doctor-one-day-so-taking-care-of-people-is-kind-of-instinctual-for-me-mode).

“Didn’t Suki say you needed to get your leg up?”

Uncle sets a glass of water in front of Katara and eyes Zuko rather sternly. “Yes, he does. You also need to shower and change, my nephew. Then Miss Katara will help keep you company in the sitting room until the others arrive.”

Zuko looks like he wants to protest, but after a moment he just sighs and gets up, and shuffles over to a door right off the kitchen. “Don’t believe anything he says.”

Uncle looks almost offended. “Why, Zuko, I would never – “

“And _you_ ,” Zuko points, “Don’t talk her ear off.”

Uncle smiles when Zuko shuts the door somewhat grumpily. Katara feels just a little of her old awkwardness return, and before she can stop herself she blurts, “I’m really sorry for the way I acted at the hospital.”

He blinks in surprise. “Oh – “

“I mean, I really hate baking, but the brownies weren’t really that big of a deal so I should have just let him alone. I should have realized that he wasn’t feeling well or something, I just – “

“Miss Katara.”

“I don’t know what came over me, between Sokka and Aang I’ve had plenty of practice holding my temper, he just made me so angry but I shouldn’t have – “

“Miss Katara.” Uncle places one hand on hers. “You were right to be upset with my nephew. His actions were uncourteous, and while you might think you were too hard on him, Zuko has always been the type who is better reached with a blunt rebuke, rather than a gentle one.”

Now it’s her turn to be surprised. “Oh. Oh, well…okay. Are you sure? Because – “

“I’m sure.” He smiles kindly, and returns to chopping his vegetables. “So. What things do you fill your days with, Miss Katara?”

Something about it all, about the kitchen with food everywhere, the man who evidently adopts anyone who walks through his door as a pseudo-grandchild, the other man whose stand-offish personality seems more and more like a façade with every second she spends with him…it puts her at ease, and when Zuko reappears ten minutes later she and Uncle are laughing over a story involving fourteen-year-old Sokka and an angry mama penguin.

Uncle quickly sends them both into the living room with tea and cookies to tide them over – the longer Katara’s in this house, the hungrier she becomes – and once Zuko is on the couch with his foot propped on the coffee table, she’s suddenly uncertain once again. Where should she sit?

The couch seems too close, like she’d be invading his personal space. But any of the armchairs or the loveseat might make him think that she doesn’t want to sit by him. Which, of course, she doesn’t _want_ to sit by him, per se, but maybe she should –

“Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to sit down?”

His tone is one of dry amusement, and her cheeks flush dully. “I…I wasn’t sure where to sit,” she admits quietly. One of his eyebrows quirks and he gestures to the couch next to him.

“I don’t bite.”

That only serves to intensify her blush, but she sits down, almost close enough to brush his elbow with hers, and more than close enough to smell the soap he used in the shower.

After a second or two of yet more awkward silence, Katara spots something on the coffee table, and eagerly reaches to pick it up. Her fingers are inches away when Zuko’s close around her wrist.

“What are you doing?” His voice is tight, but Katara has enough experience with him now to know that he’s not angry, he’s just nervous.

“I’m looking through this photo album,” she informs him cheekily. She sets down her teacup and picks up the album with her other hand, shooting him a glare when he tries to stop her again. He sits back and groans at the photo on the cover – a chubby toddler, with rosy cheeks and a toothy smile and coal-black hair that sticks up like a rooster’s in the back. If it weren’t for the eyes, Katara would ask who it is.

“Wow, Zuko,” she muses. “You were really cute.”

He gives her an irritated glare. “Thanks.”

The first page is all baby pictures. She’s surprised by how happy he looks, how carefree his life used to be. It’s obvious Uncle has always been a huge part of it all – there are more pictures with him and Zuko than of Zuko by himself. One page is full of hospital gowns and for a second she thinks she just overstepped her boundaries, big time, but then the corner photo catches her eye and she can’t look away. Transfixed, she runs her fingertips over the picture of little Zuko, nestled back in an ugly hospital armchair, his legs not even long enough for his feet to dangle over the side, and with a wad of blankets in his arms. There’s an adult set of arms hovering nearby, but Zuko’s completely enthralled with the red-faced newborn staring up at him.

Katara doesn’t say anything, only stares. Something about the look on mini-Zuko’s face makes her almost want to cry. Real-Zuko clears his throat awkwardly next to her.

“My sister.”

She turns and looks at him. He looks so, so guarded, like if she so much as breathes the wrong way he’ll shatter into a million pieces. Katara nods, slowly, and turns the page.

Then she starts in surprise. This Zuko is more like the one she knows – the scar on his face is there, for starters. But he’s scowling or, at best, stone-faced in most of the pictures. She keeps turning, watching a pubescent teenager get his driver’s license, go to his senior prom with a girl who looked less excited about it than he did, but the last page makes her gasp.

There’s only one photo. It’s big, and glossy, and it shows Zuko holding his high school diploma in one hand, cap sitting properly on his head, and in his other hand, claws sunk into the cheap black polyester gown, is _the cutest_ orange tabby kitten she has _ever_ seen.

“Oh my…”

“That’s Druk,” Zuko says. She glances up at him and notes that he’s smiling again. Not ear-to-ear, but enough for that dimple in his cheek to make an appearance. She looks back down and grins when she sees the joy on Zuko’s face.

“Where is he?”

“Well, right now he’s at the kennels,” he grimaces. “Suki’s apartment complex doesn’t allow pets, and Uncle’s allergic, and I don’t exactly like any of my neighbors, so…”

“Poor thing,” Katara murmurs. She’s always had a soft spot for cats. And this little guy…he probably had big, bad, macho-firefighter Zuko so completely whipped he didn’t know which was up.

“Yeah,” Zuko says sadly. “I go see him as much as I can, but…”

“Wait,” she sits upright. This was probably a bad idea. A really bad idea. And Sokka would probably hate it and Aang would never ever go home now but… “Would you be okay with me keeping him?”

Zuko’s mouth drops open. “I…um, I – what?”

“I can have pets,” Katara explains. This is sounding better and also worse the more the thinks about it. “And you wouldn’t have to pay me. At all. Seriously, I’d love to. And you could come see him whenever you like.”

She’s caught him more off-guard than when he’d found out she was Sokka’s sister. But he coughs slightly, and drums his fingers against his thighs, and looks up at the ceiling. “I…I can’t ask you to – “

“You didn’t ask,” she interrupts. “I offered. Come on, Zuko, please?”

He looks amused. “You actually want to keep my cat, don’t you?”

“Well, who wouldn’t?” she retorts, pointing at the picture, still on her lap. “Look at that _face_ …”

“He’s not like that anymore, Katara,” he laughs slightly. “He’s six now, and he’s every bit as grumpy and uncooperative as I am.”

She scoffs. “You’re not grumpy.”

He quirks one eyebrow.

“You’re _not_. I mean, you like to think you are, and strangers might get that impression. But I know you well enough now to know that you’re really just a big softie.”

He sputters. “I – a _softie?_ What – “

“And if he gives me any attitude, I’ll just make him brownies,” she continues sweetly.

Zuko narrows his eyes, but she just smiles and after a few moments he huffs.

“Fine. But I’m buying all his food and everything. It’s enough that you’re letting him stay with you, don’t go spending your money too. He’s spoiled enough as it is.”

“And who does all the spoiling, hm?” Katara nudges him. “Told you – _softie_.”

He looks incredibly irritated with her, but she thinks that’s mostly because he can’t actually bring himself to snap back – he’s fighting this really huge grin and his dimple is popping back out and all of a sudden the back door bursts open, making them both jump. The photo album had still been on her lap, one hand curled around the back cover, and she hisses at the new paper cut on her thumb.

“Sweet crash-pad,” Sokka approves, as he staggers through the doorway with what looks like five sacks on each arm. He narrows his eyes at Katara. “Why are you guys sitting so close together?”

Zuko tenses beside her, but Katara rolls her eyes and stands up. “Business deal, Sokka. I’m cat-sitting for Zuko until he can move back into his apartment.”

“You have a cat?” Aang immediately perks up.

“Yes,” Zuko says warily.

Aang doesn’t even get the first syllable out before Katara sighs. “No, Aang, you may not sleep on the sofa while Druk is staying with me.”

“Aw – “ he starts, but Suki, who had come in and through to the kitchen without getting distracted by any of the shenanigans, sticks her head back in the doorway and whistles sharply.

“Time to eat,” she says, and instantly Sokka and Aang are jostling each other to get through the doorway first.

Katara looks to make sure Zuko gets back on his feet okay, but before she can turn back around, he reaches a hand out to rest on her forearm.

“Thanks,” he tells her. She smiles up at him, and surprises them both when she lets his grip slide down her arm until she can squeeze his hand in hers.

“You’re welcome.”

 


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **important note at the end I’d really appreciate you reading, so please stick around for that. Feedback is, as always, much appreciated. Also I feel like I need to warn you that there is a giant lump of angst in the early half of this chapter. Enjoy!

 

Katara manages to hook one foot behind the door and slam it shut, then staggers to the kitchen with both sacks of groceries full to bursting. Somehow she makes it without breaking the eggs, but she no sooner starts unpacking then she feels a now familiar brush against her ankles.

“Hi, Druk,” she says wearily, though she can’t help but smile at the loud meow she gets in response.

Zuko’s cat is nothing but an enormous orange teddy bear, exactly as she predicted. They’re in the third week of his extended stay at her apartment, and so far the only issue has been when she’d accidentally given him too much catnip (though Zuko had laughed harder than she thought was possible when she’d shown him the videos). Druk is perfectly content to eat and nap around the apartment while she’s gone during the day. She supposes that he’s used to being left alone so much because of Zuko’s crazy hours at the firehouse.

At the moment, Druk is in the mood to play, and despite the fact that she just got out of a four-hour lecture on hematological disorders, she can’t bring herself to say no. So she changes out of her student scrubs into a pair of shorts and one of Sokka’s old tank tops, and spends about half an hour messing around on the rug in her living room.

Once Druk’s energy has lost most of its edge, she takes him to bed with her – Zuko’s cat is also very cuddly, which tells Katara that his owner is, too, but won’t admit it under fear of death – and collapses against her pillow. She especially loves this cat right now, because he’s clearly picked up on some signal that she’s exhausted, and doesn’t bother her any more to play. Instead he curls up beside her and drifts right off to sleep, and Katara has the clarity to think, _good kitty_ , before she’s right behind him.

Three hours later, however, her tune has changed entirely.

It turns out Druk doesn’t like thunderstorms.

At. _All_.

Katara tries a soothing voice, and gets a hiss. She tries giving him the blanket he’s claimed as his, fresh out of the dryer, and he bolts, knocking her alarm clock off the table. She tries cuddling him, and she’s left with four scratch marks on her forearm that are stinging and bleeding slightly.

When _that_ happens, she only has one option left, and she pulls out her cell phone. So far she’s only sent a couple of pictures to Zuko, but their texting has been pretty nonexistent. Calling him at three o’clock in the morning isn’t really the norm for them, but she doesn’t have a choice.

Thankfully, he picks up on the second ring.

“’Lo?” His voice is gravelly and rough, but he seems alert.

“Hey, um, Druk…he’s…um, well, he’s upset.”

There’s a pause, long enough for her to cringe at how painfully awkward _that_ was, before she hears a muffled curse.

“The storm – I completely forgot to tell you, I’m sorry – “

“It’s okay,” she says. “Just…what do I do?”

“Well, there’s nothing you can do, actually,” she can hear what sounds like drawers opening and closing. “He only lets me near him. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Oh. Um, okay.”

He hangs up, and Katara stares at her phone until the auto-lock kicks in. When the screen goes black she jolts.

Suddenly the living room reminds her of the worst episode of Hoarders – even though there are only a couple of empty water bottles on the table and the pile of laundry in the armchair is at least _clean_. She spends a few minutes in a panicky clean-up dash, shoving things into her closet and when she’s satisfied, she takes a glance around the room, which unfortunately lets her get a glimpse of herself in the mirror .

Druk spits in disdain. She looks down at her ragged clothes, and has to agree. She has no plans of seduction, but it would be nice to not make Zuko think she just crawled out of a dumpster. But her phone dings – it’s a text from Zuko, saying he’s outside and needs her to let him up. She heads to press the buzzer, thinking she’ll have time to at least change shirts while he’s in the elevator, but her finger is inches from the button when the power goes out.

Katara resists the urge to stomp her foot like a four-year-old, and sighs as she grabs a light jacket – also Sokka’s, he complains about her stealing his stuff but fails to realize that she doesn’t steal it so much as she just picks it up off her own living room floor – and her phone and door key.

“I understand you’re really freaked out right now,” she tells the cat, “But please don’t shred or break anything while I’m gone. Okay?”

She gets what’s probably the world’s most contemptuous glare by way of reply, and she shrugs her way out the door. Thankfully her phone’s almost fully charged, so she’s able to use the flashlight on the staircase, and in the lobby to find her way to the door. Zuko’s hunched under the tiny awning, and when she opens the door she sees that he’s more or less soaked to the bone.

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry – I came as soon as you texted but the power went out so I had to take the stairs…”

“It’s okay,” he assures her, though she feels cold just looking at him and his sweatpants are literally dripping onto the cheap tile floor. “Um, which floor do you live on again?”

“Fifth,” she grimaces. “You’re not supposed to do stairs yet, are you?”

“Not for another three weeks. But what my doctor doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“It will hurt _you_ , though,” Katara replies, and before she loses her courage she grabs his arm and drapes it around her shoulders. “Come on.”

“Um – what are you…?” Zuko blusters, but she hides her own flushing cheeks by rolling her eyes and pointing her flashlight away from her face, towards the stairs.

“I’m helping you up the stairs, obviously. As a future doctor I can’t in good conscience let you just take them on your own. This way we can say that we at least tried to go easy on your leg.”

He looks a little unsure, but after the first three steps he’s breathlessly agreeing with her – it’s hurting him more than he anticipated, so Katara tugs a little more and lets him put some of his weight on her, all while studiously ignoring the fact that she can feel the contour of his bicep against the back of her neck, and the edge of what feels like an _incredible_ set of abs through the thin, drenched material of his shirt, where she’s got her arm around his middle.

It takes them almost thirty minutes, but the storm’s still going strong when they finally reach her floor, and Zuko leans against the wall while she fumbles with the key. Her door always sticks, sometimes requiring two hands, one to jiggle the handle and the other to turn the key, and of course _now_ would be one of those times, when she has to hold the flashlight in order to even see the stupid keyhole. She puts her phone between her teeth, only for Zuko to chuckle and take it a second later.

“Here.” He shines the light exactly where she needs it, and once more she’s grateful that it’s not on her face, because then she’d have to think of a logical explanation as to why the accidental, fleeting brush of his fingertips on her jaw would make her cheeks red.

Finally she gets the door open, and leads him inside. He barely has time to shut the door behind him before the flashlight catches an orange blur that rockets out of the living room and coils around his ankles.

“Hey, buddy,” he says. He hands Katara her phone and picks Druk up, cradling him like a giant, furry baby, while Katara rummages in the kitchen for some candles. She’s just managed to find a tiny stub of what she thinks might be from Sokka’s birthday two years ago when the power clicks back on. All the appliances start humming again, and she pokes her head into the living room just to see Zuko wince and shuffle out of the draft of air that’s coming from the vent. She feels bad, even though the storm and lack of power aren’t her fault, but….the guy’s in _her_ apartment. The least she can do is be hospitable.

“Sokka’s always leaving clothes here – let me find something dry you can change into.” She starts poking around, looking under the armchair and behind the throw pillows on her couch and on top of the bookcase.

“No, I’m fine, I –“He stops short when she waves a pair of track pants and a faded blue shirt at him. “But – “

“You can change in here, while I get us some tea?”

He looks like he’s going to argue, but thinks better of it and just nods. “Sure. Whatever you’ve got is fine.”

Thankfully, fixing two mugs of tea gives her time to get her thoughts settled, and when she walks back out, Zuko’s wet clothes are spread over the radiator to dry, and Druk is curled up in his lap, snoring contentedly.

She tucks one leg beneath her and hands him his tea, then takes a healthy slurp of her own. “I’m sorry about this. Don’t you have physical therapy later today?”

“Yeah,” he pulls a face. “But that wouldn’t have gone well even with a full night’s sleep, so it’s no big deal.”

“Well, yes, but the elevator – “

“Not your fault.”

“And the electricity – “

“It came back on, didn’t it?” he says with a smile.

She sighs. “Zuko.”

“It’s _fine._ ” He laughs a little. “Druk’s the one who’s being a wimp, anyway. He hasn’t always been afraid of storms, but there was a pretty nasty one at my family’s house in Caldera a few months after I got him. Lightning actually struck the house and blew some of the electrical wiring in the kitchen, and ever since the sound of thunder makes him freak out.”

Katara tries not to dwell on the fact that it’s the most she’s ever heard him say in one go, but something else sticks out to her, too.

“So you’re from Caldera?”

“Yeah,” he smiles softly. “This is home, though. What about you?”

“Southern Water Tribe,” she shrugs. “My dad’s the chief there.”

“Wow,” he blinks. “So you’re like a…a princess or something?”

She wrinkles her nose. “I guess, if we had that kind of thing. Mostly it just means I can’t ever misbehave because everyone knows who I am. Made for a boring childhood, to be honest.”

He grins a little, but now her curiosity is piqued.

“What about you?” she asks. He stiffens and looks away. He doesn’t look angry – more like when she saw his sister’s picture in his uncle’s album. Scared, and hurt, and sad. “Oh. Zuko, um…y-you don’t have to – “

“No,” he interrupts, quiet but firm. “You shared your story.”

Part of her wants to protest again, because that was just her childhood, not even the bad parts of it, but Zuko is running his thumb around the rim of his mug and licks his lips nervously before blurting, “My dad ran a crime ring back in Caldera.”

Katara stares at him, but he keeps looking straight ahead. “My whole family was in it – even me, for a while when I was a teenager. My uncle is the one who finally broke the cycle, and got me out, too. We moved here and he made me finish high school, make something of my life.”

There are several thick, heavy seconds that pass before he finally turns his head to look at her. “My mom…” he swallows. “My mom helped bring them down. She…she, um, killed my grandfather, and exposed all the business records, emails, everything. She’s serving a life sentence without parole.”

She breathes in. “Wow.”

Zuko quirks an eyebrow and snorts. “ _Wow?_ ”

She’s relieved that the moment isn’t so somber, but she flushes. “Well, what am I supposed to say? Gee, that’s really cool, Zuko. I can’t believe one of my best friends is the heir to an organized crime empire – “

“I’m not the _heir_ – “

“I mean, it’s obvious your childhood was really crappy, but it’s also really obvious that your uncle has given you a better life here. And that’s great. And before you ask,” she glares, “I’m not going to judge you for mistakes you made when you were just a teenager. Everyone does stupid stuff when they’re that age, and if you were just doing it to make your dad happy…well, then, I’m just glad you’re not doing it anymore.”

Now he’s the one staring. “What about my mom?”

“What about her?”

“Katara, she _murdered_ somebody – “

“Yeah, but how much do you want to bet she did it to protect _you_? To help you get out?”

Zuko makes a sound like he’s choking on air. “I-I don’t have to wonder,” he admits quietly. “She told me that was the reason.” He eyes her warily. “How did you know that?”

 _Your turn, missy_. Katara clenches her mug tighter. “Because that’s what my mother would have done.”

He goes very, very still, like he knows what she’s about to say.

Deep breath. “When I was six…there was this guy who absolutely _hated_ my dad. No one’s ever told me all the details, and really it doesn’t matter – only this man decided that a good way to bring my dad down was to go after his family.”

Zuko swears softly. “Your mom…?”

She shakes her head. “No. Me.”

His eyes go wide.

“I didn’t find out until years later, but we’d been getting threatening mail and phone calls for weeks. Apparently, this guy had lost his own daughter in a car accident – something about the traffic signals not working, which somehow he blamed my dad for, I don’t know…”

It sounds like something straight from one of those cop shows that Sokka’s always recording, but Zuko’s looking dead at her and the whole story is literally pouring out of her.

“Anyway, they put a security detail on our house, and things quieted down again, enough to make my parents feel safer. One night Dad and Sokka were out getting dinner someplace, and I was in the kitchen with Mom when we heard a window smash. Mom grabbed me and shoved me into one of the cupboards, and told me to be really quiet, and that she loved me – “ Katara’s not surprised to feel tears on her face. She learned a long time ago that some wounds only scar, never heal, and this one runs too deep for the pain to ever really go away.

“She ran out of the room, and after that I didn’t hear anything else for a few minutes. Then I, um…I heard a gun go off, then the front door slammed.”

Her voice is thick now, and her nose is basically a faucet and her face is probably doing that really unattractive splotchy thing it does whenever she cries and at some point Zuko started holding her hand. She gives his a grateful squeeze.

“I found her by the stairs, and when Dad and Sokka came home…that’s where they found me.”

Zuko exhales heavily. “Agni, Katara…”

“That’s why I decided to become a doctor,” she tell him abruptly. “I could have… _should_ have been able to do something, I just –“

“You were six,” he says. He looks her right in the eye. “ _Six_. There wasn’t anything…you shouldn’t feel guilty.”

She gives a shaky smile and nods. “I know that, it’s just…”

Zuko nods in understanding, and looks down at their joined hands. “Your mother was a very brave woman. And I think the fact that you’ve dedicated your life to saving people…she’d be proud. I’m sure your dad is, too.”

There really isn’t anything she can say to that, so she gives him a watery smile and surprises them both by scooting closer so she can lean her head on his shoulder. For a second he tenses up, then she feels him rest his head on top of hers.

“Thanks for listening,” she whispers. She hears him swallow.

“You too.”

/

Zuko isn’t one to judge, but he’s never been the kind of guy who wakes up on a regular basis in apartments he doesn’t recognize at first glance. He’s conked out on Suki’s or Uncle’s couch before, but the white curtains and the bookcase crammed with anatomy texts and medical dictionaries throws him off a little bit. He starts to sit up, then realizes he has a person more or less laying on top of him.

Well, okay, they’re not really lying down – now that it’s all coming back to him, he can see that he and Katara haven’t really shifted much through the night. But she’s definitely curled into his side more, and he doesn’t remember having his arm around her when he dozed off.

A loud _meow_ makes him look down to see Druk, sitting on his haunches on the floor, smack dab in the middle of a large puddle of late-morning sunlight and looking entirely too smug, even for a cat. He blames Suki for teaching Druk this particular facial expression.

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

“Well, good morning to you too,” a sleepy voice answers him.

Zuko starts, which jostles Katara and makes her sit up off of him. Instantly cool air replaces where her warmth had pressed against him, and he refuses to let himself miss it.

He also refuses to let himself laugh at her hair. You’d think that with keeping so still all night it wouldn’t be this bad. Somehow, though, it makes her look adorable, and when she yawns and stretches he has to look away.

“Storm’s gone,” she says.

“Yeah.” He allows himself one more moment of sitting beside her. “I have to go, though. It’s – “ he squints at the clock, “nine-thirty and I have PT in an hour.”

“Oh – okay. Do you want me to drive you?”

“Uh, no, that’s okay. Suki already offered. Thanks anyway, though.”

“Okay. Do you have time for breakfast?”

 _No_. “Sure.”

She gives him a bright smile. “Just give me ten minutes to change.”

She disappears into her room, with Druk right behind her. Zuko takes a moment to look around – there are picture frames and little knick-knacks nestled on shelves and on side tables, hanging in clusters on the walls. The pictures of Katara, Sokka and Aang in their early teens are definitely his favorites -

In the silence, he jumps when his phone goes off, playing the theme from _F.R.I.E.N.D.S_. He sighs and hits answer.

“Suki, you know I don’t like that as my ringtone – “

“Zuko!” She’s breathless and he can hear a bunch of background noise that sounds suspiciously like sirens. “Listen, you know Li? In my yellow belt class?”

“Yeah, what – “

“He broke his ankle during practice today, and both of his parents are out of town, so I need to go with him to the emergency room until they get back, which won’t be until probably closer to dinner time. I’m really sorry, but I can’t take you to therapy. I can’t leave this kid all alone up at the hospital.“

“Oh. That’s…that’s okay. Uncle’s working today, but maybe Sokka or Aang – “

“Sokka and Aang are here, running the place while I’m gone.”

“Uh…well, then, I could ask Katara?”

“I guess. I don’t think she would mind.”

At that precise moment, Katara walks in, hair still slightly damp and tumbling around her shoulders, and wearing jeans and a tight, sky-colored tank top that has the potential to be really, _really_ bad for Zuko’s sanity. To make matters worse, she doesn’t immediately notice that he’s on the phone.

“Okay, I’ve got pop-tarts, or do you want fruit, or waffles, or –“ She spots the phone pressed against his ear, and winces. _Sorry_ , she mouths, but the damage is done.

“Who was that?” Suki asks. Zuko swears under his breath. “Was that _Katara?_ Did you meet her for breakfast?”

“No.”

“No to which one?”

Zuko rolls his eyes and curses the point in their friendship when Suki became able to tell when he was lying over the phone. “No, I did not meet Katara for breakfast.”

“Then…then how did – “ he hears a gasp, then a door slam shut. “Zuko, did Katara sleep over last night?”

“No!” he almost shouts. “ _I_ slept over at _her_ place.”

Immediately he wants to pull his own tongue out. Katara’s face flushes, but her eyebrows shoot up in a way that tells him she’s amused rather than upset. He hears a dull _thud_ on the line that makes him think that Suki either fainted, or tried to sit down in her desk chair and missed, the way she does when she’s preoccupied with paying the dojo’s taxes and doesn’t sleep for three nights in row.

“Not- not like that, no, I-I had to come over because Druk was freaking out during the storm and I fell asleep on the couch. That’s it.”

A pause. “Oh.”

Zuko studiously avoids eye contact with Katara.

“Well, then,” Suki continues brightly, “maybe you can ask her to take you to PT over breakfast – do you want _waffles_ or _fruit_ , Zuko?“

“I’m hanging up now,” he declares.

“– maybe she has, like, a heart-shaped waffle iron or something – “

“Tell Li I’ll come to see him later, thank you, _goodbye_ ,” Zuko barks, and right before he hangs up he can hear Suki laughing.

“Sorry,” Katara says again.

“You didn’t do anything,” Zuko shakes his head. He is not talking to Katara about Suki making fun of him for his crush on Katara. Nope. _Not_ happening. “Listen, um, there was an emergency at the dojo and Suki can’t take me to therapy today. Is there any chance you’re free? I know it’s a lot to ask – “

“Of course I can,” she interrupts with a smile and a glance at the clock. “In fact, if we leave now we’ll have time to get coffee on the way there.”

He blinks, thankful that at least he’s not on the phone with Suki anymore because she’d probably call this a _date_. “Uh, sure. Okay. Wait – do you need to get ready first?”

“I already am,” she smiles. “I’m not exactly high maintenance, Zuko.”

He has absolutely no idea what he’s supposed to say to that, so he just nods once and bends down to pet Druk good-bye, all while making a valiant effort to force the blush from his cheeks.

Fifteen minutes later sees them walking down the sidewalk together to the small shop on the corner that Katara claims makes the best cappuccinos anywhere. He decides to take her word for it and orders a large black coffee, and ignores her eye-roll.

“Don’t you want to live a little?” she asks while sipping her fancy drink that has too many flavors for him to name.

“All I need is caffeine,” he shrugs. “This is what I drink every morning at the firehouse, so it’s what I’m used to.”

She looks at him almost sadly while she flags down a cab – she’d offered to drive in her newly-repaired-thanks-to-Toph-car, but he insisted it was too far across town, and since he was inconveniencing her anyway he didn’t want her to have to pay for gas on top it. “Do you miss being there?”

No one, not even Uncle or Suki, has asked him that. He has to think about it. “Sort of. I mean, the beds are absolute crap, and it’s nice to sleep through the night without getting a call. But we’re all friends, and in the downtime we have fun, I guess. Mostly I just miss the job, and having something to do.”

He holds the door for her while she slides across the plastic leather seat, then shuts it behind him.

“Who’s your chief?” she asks curiously.

“For years, it was Uncle.”

“Really?” She asks, surprised. He smiles.

“Yeah. That’s how we met Suki, actually.”

Katara grins. “I can totally see her wanting to become a firefighter.”

 _That’s what you get for blabbing things that aren’t your business_ , he thinks. “Um…actually, well…it’s not really my story to share. But Suki’s never wanted to be a firefighter, I know that much.”

He’s grateful when Katara doesn’t press, only nods understandingly. It shouldn’t surprise him – considering what she’d shared last night, she would know all about wanting some things to remain personal.

The thing is, though, now more things make sense whenever he watches her. The way she does three-fourths of Sokka and Aang’s laundry, the way she’s always the one at restaurants to make sure everyone has napkins and the table is wiped off before they sit down, how she is constantly tuned in to what everyone around her needs. At first he’d thought she was just going to make a really awesome doctor – and that’s still true, but it’s more than that. Katara does all those things by instinct, because she’d become the mother of her family at the age of six. She makes sure Sokka has Gatorade and clean socks for after practice because she’s been doing it for most of her life. She always remembers to order vegetarian for Aang and dairy-free for Suki because taking care of people is more than what she does – it’s what she _is_.

For a moment Zuko can’t help but just look at her. That couldn’t have been easy, telling him something that deep and soul-baring, but the fact that she _did,_ tells him that their friendship has come _miles_ since their first meeting.

The memory makes him chuckle, and of course Katara wants to know what’s so funny.

“I was just thinking about last night. Would you have ever guess, after the way we met, we’d end up there?”

Now she laughs a little. “Nope. After our first conversation I was ready to strangle you.”

“As long as I got to eat the brownies first.”

That really makes her laugh, and he’s sitting there basking in her glow – yeah, okay, she’s practically _literally_ glowing, and it’s actually pretty incredible no matter how much the Suki-voice in his head mocks him – but then he catches the driver glancing in the rear view mirror.

“You two are so cute,” she gushes. “Some of the best couples I’ve ever known started out despising each other.”

Katara stutters. “Oh, um – no, w-we’re not…no, that’s – “

“We’re just friends.” Zuko says firmly. It annoys him how he can only see the top half of their driver’s face, and yet he can still tell she’s giving them a look that screams _if you say so_.

“Oh, hey look we’re here,” Katara announces just then. She sounds a little breathless and his neck and ears are still probably bright pink, but he pays the driver and then Katara makes him take the wheelchair ramp up to the fitness center’s main entrance. (“I don’t care if it’s only ten steps up there – you did five _flights_ last night, take the stupid ramp or I’ll put you in an actual wheelchair so you won’t have a choice.”)

He’s still grumbling about it when they walk up to the receptionist’s desk in the therapy wing, but Katara gives a bright smile to the stout lady sitting at the computer.

“Wakahisa, Zuko, for ten-thirty.”

The lady pops her gum and presses the phone to her ear. “Dr. Ueno to front lobby.”

A few seconds later the door opens. “Good morning, Zuko! Are you – Katara?”

Zuko stares for a second as a stunned, beaming smile appears on Katara’s face.

“Ty Lee! I forgot you worked here!”

They hug, while Zuko stands beside and wonders why his world keeps turning upside down.

“Well, I didn’t know you two knew each other,” Ty Lee looks at him reproachfully.

“Same here,” Katara laughs.

Somehow they work it out that Ty Lee and Zuko have been friends “for ages”, while she and Katara are in the same dance class at the studio about five blocks from Suki’s dojo.

Ty Lee at some point ushers them both back to her office, but when she leaves to go get some paperwork Zuko turns to Katara.

“I didn’t know you took dance classes.”

She smiles. “Actually, um, I teach now.”

“Really?” It fits, this piece of her, into the puzzle he’s been constructing in his mind. And yet it surprises him, but in a good way. “So, is it ballet, or…?”

“Ballet, ballroom, contemporary…a little bit of everything, really.”

Hopefully his staring doesn’t come across as offensive.

“Wow. So, is that why you don’t do martial arts like your brother and Aang?”

For a second he’s worried that _that_ definitely came across as defensive, especially when something sad flickers in Katara’s eyes.

“I used to,” she says quietly. “I was almost ready to test for my black belt, but…um, well, I was in a really bad place when I was about fifteen or so. And…I tracked down the guy who killed my mom.”

He barely manages to keep his jaw from swinging open. There’s an expression that he’s all too familiar with on her face, but he’s not sure she’s done anything remotely worth of the regret and guilt that are twisting her features.

“I was so _sure_ I wanted to hurt him…I even thought about – well.” Her voice is low and soft, like she’s afraid the walls will hear. “But when I found him…I couldn’t do it. I felt weak and helpless, but no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t hurt him. He was defenseless and pathetic, and I’ll always hate him. But – “

“You’re not weak,” Zuko interrupts, quiet and gentle. After only a brief second of hesitation, he takes her hand in his. “Having the guts to do the right thing, even when every inch of you is screaming in protest…that’s anything but weak, Katara.”

She smiles weakly and nods. “I know that now,” she says, sliding her fingers between his. “But at the time, once I got back home that day….it scared me, how close I’d come to going against everything I’d learned in martial arts. So I decided to give it up, and just focus on dance instead. It’s worked pretty well for me. Sokka makes sure I still know self-defense and stuff.”

Zuko squeezes her hand. “It’s…it’s, um, good that you had dance, too. Had you done it longer, or – ?”

“My whole life, pretty much.” Her smile looks more genuine now. “My mom signed me up for my first class when I was really little, and I’ve loved it from day one.”

The door opens before he can answer, and he’s relieved when Katara breaks their handhold at the same time he does. It’s not that he minds holding her hand, it’s just that Ty Lee can (and will) tell Suki and Uncle if she even _thinks_ she sees anything remotely couple-y.

His visit with Ty Lee goes as usual – she’s collaborated with his surgeon, Dr. Song at the hospital, and they both agree that’s he’s probably only two weeks away from beginning his training. Once they clear him for that, he can get ready for the firehouse to clear him for work again. He’s still got at least a month, but the end is in sight, and he lets the good news carry him through the entire work out and after, when Katara takes them for celebratory smoothies (and literally swats his hand when he reaches for his wallet).

As he sips his pineapple-paradise through the bright red straw, he feels like for the first time in a long time, things are looking up, and it puts him in a rare good mood. He laughs and smiles and even lets Katara take a selfie with him – something Suki only gets to do once a year on her birthday, and there’s a limit to how many times she can retake the picture – and post it on Instagram.

Eventually, though, she has to head to dance class, and he wants to tag along but he promised Suki he’d come by to visit Li at some point, so he tells the cab driver their two stops.

“Thanks for going with me today,” he says. She smiles.

“I had fun. I was a little confused, though – Suki said you’re always such a grump during therapy, and today you were almost…sun-shiny.”

Zuko snorts. “I don’t know about _sun-shiny,_ but it wasn’t hard to be in a better mood today, not when I’m closer than I thought to working again.”

Abruptly, Katara’s smile melts right off her face, and she looks at him incredulously. “I never thanked you, did I?” she says, surprised. “I mean, you saved my life, and I’ve let all this time go by without ever saying – “

“You gave me thank-you brownies, remember?” he tells her, bemused. How did she forget that?

“Well, yeah, but – the meaning was kinda lost in the middle of…everything, and – “

“Not to me,” he says. She goes silent, and looks at him uncertainly. “I never forgot what they were for. If anything, I’m the rude one here, because I bit your head off instead of saying you’re welcome.”

“It was implied. Don’t worry.” she answers cheekily.

“Good. And, before I go,” they’re pulled up outside the hospital, and he dregs up every particle of courage in him, the kind he uses to make himself run inside burning buildings, and he leans in to graze his lips, brief and little sloppy, on her cheekbone. “Thanks for the smoothie.”

He yanks the door open and shuts it again before she has time to respond, and as the cab drives away he can see her through the rear window, looking back at him in surprise.

/

Suki hasn’t been in the pediatric hospital in a long time, but she’s pretty sure that the last time she was here, they didn’t have heated blankets. She manages to get the nurse to bring her one, since she didn’t have the time to change before bringing Li here, and they keep the rooms cool. The blanket is rough on her bare shoulders, but she doesn’t care, and she has just made herself a nice little cocoon on the sofa, where she can easily see if Li wakes up, when the door opens.

Zuko looks at her and snorts. “Cold?”

“Don’t take that tone with me,” she retorts. “Not all of us are walking furnaces.”

He rolls his eyes and plops down on the couch beside her. She immediately scans him, and is glad to see that he doesn’t look like he’s in a lot of pain, and is almost…cheerful.

“So, how did your breakfast date with Katara go?”

He doesn’t tense like she expects him to, which sends her radar for Zuko’s love life into overdrive.

“I’m not sure eating coffee and scones in the back seat of a cab counts as a date, but if that’s what you were referring to, it was fine.”

“Hm. And how, exactly, did you end up, and I quote, ‘sleeping over at her place?’”

There’s the glare she’s been expecting. “I fell asleep comforting my stupid, astraphobic cat. On the _couch_.”

“Alright, alright. Did Katara at least try to give you her bed?”

“What? No.”

Suki narrows her eyes. There is _something_ , something he’s not telling her and does _not_ want her to find out.

“Would you have let her?”

Zuko’s brow furrows in confusion. “Of course not – I would have made her take the bed, and I would have stayed on the couch – “

“Would have? Like, hypothetically?”

“Well, yeah, because she didn’t offer her bed – “

“ – I have a hard time believing that,” Suki muses, “because she’s _such_ a _giving_ person, y’know? Seems like she would at least offer.”

“Well, she didn’t,” Zuko snaps, “and she’s still nice.”

“Of course,” Suki nods. “But I can’t help but wonder why. Was her back hurting her too much to take the couch? Was she embarrassed over the mess in her room?”

Zuko is studiously ignoring her attempts at eye-contact, but he stares at her hand as it sneaks forward, and plucks a long, chestnut-brown hair off the front of his black sweatshirt.

When she holds it up between them, he closes his eyes and swears under his breath.

“Or was it because she was on the couch right beside you? _Cuddling?_ ”

He sighs. “We got talking and we both fell asleep. I woke up in the exact same position, so no, no subconscious cuddling like in those stupid rom-coms you make me watch – “

“That’s okay, conscious cuddling is better anyway – “

“ – and even though _nothing happened_ ,” he pins her with a glare, “I still think Sokka would strangle me with my own intestines if he found out. So…”

“Oh, I won’t tell him,” she assures. “At least not until at your rehearsal dinner.”

Zuko yanks the blanket open, letting a draft of freezing cold air inside her nest, and she muffles her squawk and punches him in the arm before they settle down, and eventually he puts an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side, because he’s the warmest thing in the room, and she starts getting sleepy but she has a moment to think that Zuko hasn’t looked like this in a really, really long time. He always carries the weight of his past on his shoulders, and despite how close they’ve grown over the years, she’s never quite figured out how to convince him to share the burden.

She feels a surge of gratitude for Katara, and excitement over the prospect of telling Uncle _this_ juicy bit of information, before her drowsiness and the warmth get the best of her, and she drifts off to sleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (UGH that ending is gross).
> 
> Okay, so.
> 
> Basically what I’ve done I’ve separated Katara’s waterbending and bloodbending into two separate arts. Waterbending : dancing :: bloodbending : martial arts. I feel like the evil in canon bloodbending didn’t lie in the art itself, but rather the bender’s use of it. I’m still SO UPSET that bloodbending is only shown in a negative light in LOK, because I’m a former nursing student and can you even imagine the medical uses for something like that???
> 
> Anyway, same goes for martial arts. Yeah, you could use it to really hurt somebody, much like AU Katara was tempted to do. But you can also use it for wholesome, good reasons, and Katara became unable to compartmentalize her reasons for martial arts, so she quit, just like she gave up bloodbending for good after The Southern Raiders.
> 
> I think the waterbending/dance is a pretty easy parallel to see, but I didn’t want anyone thinking that I was using some dumb misogynist idea that Katara was too scared of martial arts or not good at it or something. She gave it up because of the fact that her place right then in dealing with her mother’s death didn’t leave her feeling comfortable empowering herself like that. Just to clarify.
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience. I really hope you liked it, and I’m truly so sorry about the wait. Love you guys!


	7. 7

Most people here in Ba Sing Se despise the winter. The city doesn’t really get a lot of snow, but the temperatures drop below freezing for a few weeks and it makes most inhabitants miserable, not to mention grumpy.

Not Katara.

Being from the South Pole and all, this seems pretty mild. Sure, she has to wear a coat and gloves and a scarf and she goes through about five tubes of Chapstick in a month, but hey, she doesn’t have to make sure she has enough food, water, and fuel to last for a week in case a blizzard hits. So, you know. She’ll take a little cold any day.

Part of her misses it though, that fresh white landscape every morning, the feeling of her hair turning damp from melting snowflakes, the crunch of fresh powder beneath her boots, the feeling of waking up to a layer of thin frost over the bathroom mirror and arm-wrestling Sokka for the warmest spot on the mat where they ate their meals in Gran-Gran’s kitchen.

Despite the draws that home has for her, it doesn’t have good coffee, which is something that Katara has definitely let herself get spoiled by here in the Earth Kingdom. Agriculture is big here, where the Water Tribes are focused more on hunting and wildlife-based exports, and there have been times during this first semester of med school where she’s fairly certain she wouldn’t have survived without her caffeine vice.

Today’s indulgence, however, is more celebratory than desperate – she just got out of her last final, which she’s almost completely positive she _aced_ , and everyone – Sokka, Aang, Suki, Zuko, and even Toph – is at the dojo. Carefully she balances the six cups on the little tray – _why_ hasn’t anyone invented one of these things with six holes instead of four, does _no one_ in marketing realize that coffee runs usually involve a group that consists of more than four people?? – and tugs the door open.

“ _Coffee_.” Sokka takes a hearty gulp of his before yelping from his scalded tongue. Aang kindly takes both Suki’s and Toph’s, hands them to the girls, and then his own.

“Thanks, Katara,” Suki says on a sigh, leaning back in her old, dilapidated chair. Her office is in the back of the dojo, large and spacious, but bursting at the seams with all kinds of odds and ends that Suki calls ‘collectibles’ (Zuko calls it all junk, but never where Suki can hear him). There are old, rusted katanas, dusty photo albums, a glass case displaying long green warrior’s uniform that is both terrifying and _awesome_ , and there are _so many_ bookcases, stuffed full of antique flea-market novels – heroic stories and legends all written in ancient Earth Kingdom languages that Suki is determined to learn one day.

Katara’s favorite part of the office, though, is the private side entrance that faces the coffee shop across the street behind the dojo. It means she has to walk in the cold less.

She sets the tray down on the desk – Suki absolutely sucks at keeping her workspace organized, but there is always a corner of desktop that is always kept clear and is also in the precise shape and size of a cardboard to-go tray – and takes her own drink as well as the last one remaining.

“Zuko’s still training out front,” Suki says, casual but not quite casual enough to hide the mischievous twinkle in her eye. Sokka, as usual, is thicker than a concrete wall and misses the hint by a mile.

“S’ok, I’ll take him his,” he says as he reaches for Zuko’s coffee – tall black, extra hot.

“Oh, but you were telling me about the design ideas you had for the watchtower in your village?”

Katara privately thinks that if Suki hadn’t been a full-time warrior queen, she could have been an actress. Sokka falls for it, hook, line and sinker, and immediately plops his butt back down in his chair as engineering schematics and equations and the sheer beauty of the laws of physics capture his full and undivided attention, leaving Katara free to grab the remaining cup and slip out the other door (not that she minds).

Another nice thing about Suki’s office is that the walls and door are completely soundproof, so Sokka’s blabbering cuts off just in time for Katara to hear Zuko’s shout as his fist shatters a wooden plank.

She dutifully ignores the weird little skip in her pulse.

She also tries to ignore the fact that Zuko’s shirtless, but…well. He’s obviously been here a while and his entire torso is straight-up _glistening_ under the cheap fluorescent lights.

She’s not really sure why his build has such an effect on her – his job requires him to be in prime physical condition, and she noticed his muscles before he even woke up that day in the hospital, so you would think that a buff Zuko would kind of just be a fact of life for her by now. But for some reason, the sight of his back and shoulders rippling as he goes through his forms makes her collarbone flush.

He spins, one leg extended in a kick, and she barely has time to banish all thoughts about appreciating the front of him as much as the back before he spots her.

“Hey.” He smiles and grabs his towel from the sideline, wiping his brow and then hanging it around his neck. “How did that final go? Genetics was today, right?”

“Yeah,” she says, pleased but not very surprised that he remembers. “It was brutal, but I think I did pretty well. I guess we’ll see.”

Zuko’s come closer, and she can smell him – which by all reasoning should be just as gross as it is when it’s Sokka, but it isn’t. Katara tries to keep the blush from spreading to her face and holds out the coffee.

“Oh – thanks,” Zuko takes it, a little awkwardly, and now her face is definitely red because she feels like an idiot.

“Sorry – um, I guess coffee isn’t really what you’re supposed to drink while you’re working out – “

“It’s okay,” He smiles again – those stupid dimples, will she _ever_ get used to them? – and raises the cup to his nose so he can inhale the scent. “I’m done, anyways. I’ll go get cleaned up and c\an still drink it before it cools.”

“Sure. Right. Okay.” Katara nods and peers through the little sip-hole on the lid of her own drink, idly wondering if there’s enough coffee in there to drown herself. Zuko doesn’t seem to notice how flustered she is, though, and once he’s gone back to the locker rooms, she sighs and settles herself down on one of the old, worn benches that line the edges. The dark wood is littered with junior-high graffiti and rude pictures that Sokka probably still thinks are hilarious.

Her phone rings; she jumps a little in the silence but smiles when she sees that it’s a Skype call from home.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Hi, sweetheart.” Her dad is sitting at the eat-in counter in their kitchen, which is good – it’s a little past dinner time there, and that means that he actually came home for a meal instead of putting in extra hours at work. He looks tired, but she doesn’t have time to ask if he’s okay before the screen blurs and another face appears.

“You look peaky,” Gran-Gran says by way of greeting. “Have you been eating enough?”

Katara stifles a laugh and rolls her eyes fondly. “Yes, Gran-Gran. I’ve just been really busy with finals and everything.”

“How did Genetics go, today?” Hakoda gives up trying to take his phone back from his mother-in-law and settles for peering over her shoulder.

School is easy to talk about with her family; her dad went out the day after she got her acceptance letter and bought a PROUD BSSU MED SCHOOL PARENT t-shirt, and he wears it so often that the logo has mostly faded in the wash. He also keeps two calendars on the fridge – one for her schedule, one for Sokka’s, so he can ask them both how classes are going and even though Bato teases him mercilessly about color-coding Katara’s clinical rotations and Sokka’s lab projects, it kind of makes her day that her dad is _that_ involved, living twelve hours away.

For a little while they just talk, catching up on news since she hasn’t really had a chance for a real conversation since right before finals started. She assures her dad that Sokka’s fine, he hasn’t blown up a school lab yet and his landlord hasn’t done anything more drastic than complain about loud music and the odd smell from the animals Aang keeps rescuing.

“I’m glad you three will be home soon,” Hakoda smiles. “You have your plane tickets, right?”

“Yeah, and I have the boys’ passports so they won’t get lost.”

“Good call,” he nods approvingly.

She’s just started to ask him if they should expect him or Bato to pick them up at the airport when a loud crash startles her from behind. She turns and sees Zuko standing amongst a pile of bo staffs. His face is screwed up in a wince that tells her he foresaw the calamity before it happened and tried to stop it, but one eye peeks open.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Katara laughs. “You all right? You didn’t lose your footing, did you?” Zuko’s leg is completely healed, and gets stronger every day with his regime of work outs and training sessions (he actually will test to resume work right after school starts back next semester), but she’s a mother at heart and doctor in the making. Sue her for being a teensy bit paranoid.

“No, I’m good,” He says, and bends to pick up the staffs.

“Who is that?”

Katara freezes; she’d completely forgotten about the phone in her hand. It’s not that she’s embarrassed to introduce Zuko to her family, not at all. But she knows her dad and grandmother. She wishes she had time to apologize or give some kind of warning to Zuko, but all she does is sigh.

“Zuko, could you come over here for a second please?” He immediately complies, grabbing his still-hot coffee on the way and sitting down beside her. “Dad, Gran-Gran, this is Zuko. He’s a friend of ours.”

Her father and grandmother are staring. Zuko’s doing wonderfully; she can tell by the way his fist is clenched on his knee that he’s nervous, but only his face shows in the video call, and he has a pleasant, patient expression that indicates he knows they’re being somewhat rude and he doesn’t mind one bit.

“I don’t recall you mentioning him before, honey,” her dad says quietly. He hasn’t gone on the scary dad rampage yet, so Katara counts it as a minor victory.

“You’ve heard of Zuko,” she smiles. “Sokka talks about him all the time.”

“Well, yes, I knew he was helping your brother train, but I didn’t realize you knew him, too.”

“I’ve actually known Katara longer than I have Sokka,” Zuko pipes up. Katara closes her eyes. That was probably _the_ least helpful thing he could have said.

“Have you now.”

Zuko spots Hakoda’s eyebrows disappearing into his hairline, and recognizes his mistake. “Uh, yeah – I mean, yes, sir.”

“And just how did you meet my daughter?”

Zuko blinks. “I, um. I carried her – “

Hakoda’s nostrils flare.

“ – out of a burning building…”

It’s several moments before Katara has the courage to look at the screen. Her father is sitting there, surprised and glancing to her as though looking for confirmation. All she can do is nod.

“You’re the firefighter who rescued Katara?”

“Yes.” Zuko says, not ashamed but a little uncomfortable with the long-distance scrutiny.

“Well.” Hakoda clears his throat. “You were injured, as I recall.”

“Yes, sir,” Zuko says, quiet and a little less awkward. “My leg was broken in three places. I can go back to work in a month.”

“How was your leg broken?” Gran-Gran asks. Katara wants to wave her arms and shout _irrelevant_ , but Zuko doesn’t seem to mind. He maintains eye-contact (well, as best he can over a video chat, anyway) and keeps his tone light.

“I’d almost made it out of the building when the ceiling started to cave in.”

It’s short, simple, the nuts and bolts of the story from that day, and for a few moments no one says anything.

“Thank you.” Her father’s voice is a little raspy and his eyes are a little bright.

“It was my pleasure,” Zuko tells him, then apparently realizes what he said. “I mean, uh…sort of, I – that is, I’d gladly do it again, but being out of work for six months absolutely sucked to be – you know what, just…you’re welcome.“

To Katara’s astonishment, her father laughs. Not a polite, we-just-met-two-minutes-ago chuckle, either – it’s the kind that makes his eyes crinkle up at the corners and his shoulders shake, the kind that usually only Sokka’s puns or Katara’s bedhead can get out of him.

“I don’t blame you for hating missing work. I’d be going crazy, myself,” Hakoda finally says, but grunts when what seems to be Gran-Gran’s elbow catches him in the stomach. He looks down, perplexed. “What?”

Gran-Gran just looks at him.

“Oh. Um, if you’re sure – “

One of her grandmother’s eyebrows arches delicately.

“All right, _fine_.” Hakoda rolls his own eyes. “Zuko, I – _we_ would like for you to join us here for the holidays.”

Katara’s jaw swings open. Zuko, surprisingly, manages not to stutter.

“Oh. Um, thank you both, but I’m not sure I can leave my uncle alone.”

“Bring him.” Gran-Gran is using her no-arguing voice, but of course Zuko wasn’t raised by her so he doesn’t recognize the danger signs.

“I – it’s too late to get tickets?” Zuko keeps glancing sideways at her, but all Katara does is shrug and smile. There’s nothing she can do once Gran-Gran gets an idea in her head.

“Bring him. And any others – Sokka has mentioned someone…Suki? Three tickets – Hakoda, go use the computer, get three more tickets. Will that be enough?”

“Uh. I think so. Yes, ma’am.”

Gran-Gran pokes Hakoda again. “Go.”

He exchanges an amused look with Katara, but rolls his eyes again, this time more affectionately. “Yes, ma’am. Katara, I’ll try to call you tomorrow. Love you.”

“I love you, Dad.”

Gran-Gran peers at Zuko with a critical eye. “Zuko.”

He swallows, and Katara can’t really blame him for being twice as scared of Gran-Gran as he was of Hakoda. “Yes, ma’am?”

“No more of this formality. You can call me Gran-Gran. And I assume you three have passports?”

“Yes m- I mean, sure…uh, Gran-Gran. And yes, we have all the paperwork ready.”

“Very good. Katara, you tell Zuko’s uncle and his friend Suki that they need to pack warm clothes, but we have extras here if they need it. And don’t any of you _dare_ go out and buy any presents,” she adds sharply. Zuko’s eyes widen and he nods.

Katara sighs. “I’ll tell them. I gotta go, Gran-Gran. I love you.”

“Good-bye, dear. Go get some rest.”

She ends the call, and Katara wonders if she should apologize. Sure, it’s generous and hospitable and all, but Suki will have to close the dojo and Uncle his tea shop – she’s just opened her mouth when Zuko beats her to it.

“So, how likely is it that your grandmother is going to have gifts for me, Suki, and Uncle?”

“Oh, there’s no question.” Katara grins. “She’s probably going to call me later tonight and want to know your sizes and favorite colors.”

“Mm.” Zuko looks up at the ceiling. “Well, in that case I’m just going to have to risk it.”

She’s not surprised. “Your funeral.”

“Hey, I’m following the rules. I won’t buy anything.”

She peers at him, suspicious. “What, do you knit or something?”

He snorts. “Or something, trust me. Although I will warn you that Suki will probably make six pairs of mittens and an afghan on the flight over.”

“I think afghans are crochet?”

“Whatever, I just know it involves a lot of yarn.”

Katara laughs right as the office door opens. Sokka pokes his head out.

“Hey, sis, why is Dad texting me if I mind sharing a room with Zuko while we’re home?”

/

Zuko finds out (two days before they leave) that Katara’s birthday will hit right in the middle of their trip.

He immediately panics.

Mostly because of _course_ he’s going to get her something (he’s already gotten the Christmas presents ready), but what?

But also partly because he sort of found out her birthday was coming up by accident, which means she probably didn’t want him to feel like he had to get her something, so since he’s going to the trouble anyway he better make it worthwhile.

Which, again, begs the question: _but what??_

He asks Suki for a list of boutiques she likes, in the hopes of finding something that reminds him of Katara. He leaves every store frustrated. There were lots of pretty things, but Katara would just outshine every piece of jewelry he could ever buy so he doesn’t really see the point (when he says as much to Suki and Uncle, they both make such a fuss that he regretting asking them for help at all).

It isn’t until he’s over at Suki’s the next day – because apparently an accomplished martial artist who also runs her own business can’t decide if she should take her tan sparkly dress or the black miniskirt – that inspiration hits him. Suki has one of her movie soundtrack playlists going in the background, and all of a sudden Zuko realizes what movie this song is from.

“I _haaaad_ ,” Suki crows, as she sprawls on her stomach, searching under her bed for ‘that one pair of shoes’, “the tiiime of my _liiiiiiffee,_ and I owe it all to _yooooouuuu_.”

He’s got it.

He has to go all the way into the kitchen just to hear himself think. Luckily Sokka picks up on the first ring, but Zuko doesn’t give him time to say hello.

“This is going to sound weird, but I need you to tell me what song your mom danced to the year she won the championship.”

Sokka, good friend that he is, doesn’t ask any questions, just answers Zuko’s, and after they hang up, Zuko feels even surer of his idea – if Sokka had thought for one second that Katara wouldn’t love it, he would have shot it down.

He almost drops his phone in his haste (has he mentioned _they leave in two days_ ), but Google doesn’t fail him – there are three stores nearby, plus one more in the Upper Ring if he gets desperate. And they all close in two hours.

“Hey, I gotta go,” he shouts over the music.

Suki’s head resurfaces as she lets out a squawk. “What? But I haven’t finished packing!”

“I’ll be back later to help, I promise.”

“But – “

Zuko sighs. “Pick the dress; you said it was more comfortable, plus I was with you when you bought it and you said it makes your legs look nice.”

He’s out the door, shoving his coat on as he walks, before she can protest any further, and hops on his bike.

He almost has three wrecks on the way; he tries very hard to not be an arrogant person, but this idea has him really excited, because he knows in his bones it’s probably going to be one the best presents she’s ever going to get.

The first store dims his enthusiasm a little, mostly because they had nothing even similar to what he’s searching for, and by the time he strikes out at the third and final store in the Middle Ring he’s beginning to worry.

The shop in the Upper Ring is quiet, and he shuffles around the maze of shelves and storage bins before he spots it, tucked away in the corner and almost unrecognizable from the dust, but when he picks it up, it’s exactly what he’s looking for, in pristine condition and sporting a faded price tag that’s laughably cheap. He almost feels guilty, paying so little for what is probably worth hundreds to collectors, but this isn’t for a glass case in someone’s basement. This is for Katara.

He takes it straight to Uncle’s, who’s handling all their gifts so they get packed and gift-wrapped correctly, and when Zuko explains the birthday present Uncle almost cracks his ribs in a hug. So, again, Zuko’s feeling really _really_ good about this idea.

/

Later (after he’s finished helping Suki pack), Katara comes by to help him fix a bag for Druk at the kennels for the three weeks they’ll be gone (Zuko almost feels bad, but there are no cats at the South Pole, only dogs, and _that_ is a nightmare waiting to happen).

“So, you all just gather in the town hall?”

“Uh-huh,” Katara smiles, gently scooping Druk out of the open duffel bag and putting him on the floor, where he immediately rubs himself against her legs. “It’s the Messenger Feast; it used to be how different villages renewed their trade agreements. It lasts all night long, and there’s tons of food, music – it’s great.”

“Wow,” Zuko tries to picture a family gathering where illegal arms dealers don’t leave soy-sauce stains on his mother’s white tablecloth and issue death threats over dessert. He has to admit, he’s pretty excited. He fondly shoves Druk back off the duffel. “So, do you still do the trade agreement part?”

“Nah, we just have the feast because it’s tradition. A pretty good crowd from the Northern Water Tribe comes down to visit, though, and that’s always a lot of fun.” Katara zips the bag closed. Druk jumps back onto the couch, and gives her an affronted look when he finds _his_ spot has been sealed off, but looks somewhat pacified when Katara strokes under his chin.

“What about you guys?”

Zuko shrugs. “Mostly we just celebrate the New Year, but that’s not until a couple of weeks after we get back.”

“We’ll have to throw a party,” she says with a smile.

“Suki usually tries to, every year.” He doesn’t mention that those parties more often than not involve ungodly amounts of glitter confetti, and the cake is always terrible but she insists on getting it from the same store because it’s _tradition_. A thought hits him a moment later.

“Actually….I think the Firehouse Ball might already be scheduled for then.”

Suki’s not going to be happy about that. She loves planning those parties.

“Firehouse Ball?” Katara is looking at him quizzically.

“Oh, uh, the firehouse throws this…dance thing, just for a big fundraiser. Usually they do it over the winter break, but we got three new people and they’re still in college, so they’re going home for the holidays. I guess they decided to postpone it for them.”

“Why?” Katara kicks a ball of yarn under the couch; Druk leaps after it like a spaz.

“Well, usually they do some awards at the ball. And new recruits always get recognized.”

She smiles. “Sounds like a big deal.”

He shrugs. “I guess.”

“So are there just awards for the rookies?”

He freezes. The _one_ question he’d been hoping she wouldn’t ask…

“Uh…no, not usually.”

Why did he have to be so bad at lying? _Why?_

“Oh, so, what else?”

Katara literally has no clue. She’s just being a good friend, wanting to be all involved and supportive in his life because that’s the Katara thing to do. Zuko sighs, and tells himself that she would have found out anyway – there wasn’t a chance that Uncle or Suki wouldn’t have told her.

“Um, well this year, they’re giving a Medal of Valor.”

She looks up from where she’s sitting on the floor, leaned against the back of his couch and teasing Druk with a mouse toy. “That sounds like a big deal.”

“I guess it is….” He sits down beside her.

“Do you know who’s getting it?”

Druk paws at Katara’s leg, where she’s tucked the ball of yarn out of sight with the end sticking out.

Zuko takes a deep breath. “Some idiot who carried a girl out of the BSSU fire, and then turned around and was a total jerk to her in the hospital when she brought him brownies.”

Katara stares at him. “Zu – are you _serious?_ You’re being recognized and you didn’t tell me?”

“Uh, no - ?”

“Zuko. I think that _I_ , of all people, would like to know!”

He sighs. “I know. I’m sorry, Katara, it’s just…I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“How about – ‘hey, Katara, remember that time I was really brave and saved your life? I’m getting this huge prestigious award for it’?”

He glares. “Okay, I didn’t know how to tell you without sounding full of myself.”

The affectionate irritation immediately fades, and Katara turns until she’s completely facing him.

“Zuko, you’re one of the most humble people I know,” she says softly. “Being recognized for something great that you did – that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I want to be there for you.”

“Good, because I kind of want you there for me, too.”

“You do?”

Why does she look surprised?

“Yeah,” he shifts to face her, their faces only inches apart. He can see all the different shades of blue in her eyes. Druk has deserted them, off finding a loose string in the knit blanket on the couch to pull. “Of course I want you there with me. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, it’s just – I assumed that Suki has always been your date. I don’t want to get in the way or anything.”

He snorts. “Trust me, Suki hates this thing even more than I do.”

Then something hits him – did Katara just imply…

She smiles. “Well, in that case, I’m glad you told me this early. Now I can look for a dress while we’re home, and Gran-Gran can help me convince Dad to help pay for it. How formal is it?”

He stares. How two functioning, otherwise rational adults could be so completely terrible at communicating is unfathomable to him. But…

“Uh. It’s formal, but not white-tie or anything. You could ask Suki for ideas.”

“Okay.” She beams at him, and he wants to laugh when he notices that she’s actually excited. Then she spots the time. “Oh, I’ve got to get going. I promised Aang I’d make him a tofu omelet in the morning, and I have to stop and get some eggs on the way home.”

She gathers her stuff as she talks. He holds her coat for her to slip on, and once she’s all bundled up, she turns to him and steps close.

“Thank you for telling me about the ball,” she says softly, “And…I’m really glad you’re coming home with us.”

“You’re welcome,” he responds. At least that’s what he hopes he says. He can’t really think clearly when he can smell her perfume. “And, um. Me too.”

She gives him one more brilliant smile, and before he has time to react she’s on her tiptoes and her lips are pressed against his cheek, and her hand is on his shoulder for balance and she stays just like that for what seems like forever, but it’s still much too soon when she pulls away and backs out the door.

Somehow, Zuko makes it to one of the kitchen chairs, and collapses. He glances over to find Druk staring at him.

“I accidentally asked Katara to be my date for the Firehouse Ball,” he tells the cat. Druk blinks. “And then she kissed me.”

Druk meows loudly, unimpressed, and saunters away with his tail in the air.

/ 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did a fair amount of research on Inuit and Asian holidays, since those are the inspirations for the Water Tribes and the Fire Nation/Earth Kingdom. It’s actually rather handy that the latter two share the same basis for culture, because then it’s not very far-fetched to say that Zuko and Suki celebrate the same holidays. The Messenger Feast is actually a thing, and even though modern-day Inuit tribes celebrate a lot of the Christian holidays, I thought the traditions were pretty interesting.
> 
> Also, I’m about as knowledgeable about martial arts as Donald Trump is about brain surgery, so please don’t judge too hard. The same goes for how an injured firefighter goes about restarting his/her work rotation.
> 
> I’m so sorry this took so long. I am back in classes now, full-time, so that will probably start delaying updates a little. But never fear – they will come, and hopefully they’ll be worth the wait.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	8. 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm awful and horrible and you all have every right to hate me. If you do and are still reading this then you have an angelic soul.

Suki takes one step inside the Makivik home, and immediately has a coughing fit.

“Gran-Gran, I can totally expl – oh, it’s just you.” Sokka’s hair is falling out of its wolftail, he’s sweaty despite the fact that he’s wearing a faded tank top (this one says _‘I’m sorry I ruined your lives and crammed eleven cookies into the VCR’_ – to absolutely no one’s surprise, Buddy the Elf is Sokka’s favorite and he spends the entire month of December quoting the movie and putting paper snowflakes everywhere he goes).

“Um –“ Suki bends her knees and crouches so her head is below the smoke that is filling the foyer.

“Hey, did you want – what happened?” Zuko, carrying the last of their stuff in from the car, shuts the door and instantly goes into what she likes to call his pole-dancing mode (a joke made long ago that he insists is irrelevant, since his firehouse doesn’t even _have_ poles like the ones in movies, but does she care? No she does not.)

Suki prepares to resist him if he tries to carry her outside again, which hasn’t happened since that one time they were at the movies and someone’s cell phone went off and Zuko thought it was the fire alarm, but. You can never be too careful. Thankfully he seems to realize the house isn’t up in flames, and he immediately pins Sokka with a glare.

“Easy,” Sokka placates. “Aang and I were just making ourselves a little snack, and –“

“Katara told you not to touch the stove,” Zuko inches around Sokka and makes his way to the kitchen, where Aang is waving a dishtowel frantically at the smoke detector. Seconds after Zuko and Suki enter the room, the frying pan on the stove erupts into full blown flames.

Suki opens the window, while Zuko dumps half a bag of flour onto the pan, and a white, miniature atomic cloud poofs up over the stove. He drags a chair over and climbs up to pull the battery out of the alarm.

“Okay, so you two decided to try and cook, conveniently forgetting that you don’t know _how_ – “

“Hey, we know how to cook!” Aang says indignantly. There are specks of white flour in his blue hair, and also in Sokka’s eyebrows. The floor is gritty, and the whole room smells much the way Suki imagines hell does.

Zuko pinches the bridge of his nose. “You know how to cook with a _microwave_. And while you can make plenty of good food with a microwave, it is not the same as a six-burner _gas stove_.”

He pokes through the mounds of flour, and holds up a shriveled, coal-black something that probably would have tasted really good if anybody but Sokka and Aang tried to cook it.

“Seriously? You put the whole thing in?”

Suki is personally quite impressed that he can even tell what the ‘whole thing’ is. Used to be. Whatever.

“Well, yeah, more flavor that way – “ Sokka begins to explain.

“No.” Zuko shakes the crispy remains at him. “ _No_. Do you even know what this is?”

“Sure,” Aang is, as always, unfazed by an irate Zuko. “It’s a pepper.”

“Yes, but what _kind?”_

“It looked like those little peppers Katara stuffs with cheese sometimes,” Aang says.

Oooh, Suki’s had those before. The ones that aren’t for Aang also get wrapped in bacon, and they are _awesome_. But Zuko is not so easily distracted by reminders of Katara’s skill in the kitchen.

“This is Gaoling ghost pepper,” Zuko tosses it in the garbage. “And the seeds and oil are never supposed to go in, just the flesh. You were essentially asking for the entire house to burn down.”

“Well, okay,” Sokka clears his throat. “We’ll be more careful next time – “

“Oh no,” Zuko cuts him off, his voice sharp with righteous indignation. “There won’t _be_ a next time. If you two are that hungry, I’ll make you something. Just don’t ever touch an appliance that isn’t the microwave or the fridge.”

And without another word, he turns and turns on the faucet, washes his hands, and in about five minutes he has two skillets on the now-flourless stove, one with a tofu stir fry and the other with a sandwich that contains four kinds of cheese and enough bacon to send an Olympic athlete into cardiac arrest.

Once the boys are busy stuffing their faces, Zuko starts cleaning up. Suki eventually gets tired of sneaking pieces of bacon off of Sokka’s sandwich and gets up to help sweep the floor.

“Thanks for going with me today,” Zuko says. He crouches down and holds the dustpan for her. “Sokka said their gym here was nice but I wouldn’t have wanted to go by myself.”

“No problemo,” she says cheerfully. It had been a good workout – something she’s missed doing with Zuko anyway since he got hurt. They push each other in a crazy, competitive-yet-supportive way.

She’s looking down at the floor to make she gets all the flour, but the look on his face makes her pause. “What?”

Startled, he looks up, wide-eyed. “What?”

She narrows her eyes. “Don’t _what what_ me. That face. That’s your I-need-to-tell-you-something-but-I-also-forgot-how-to-start-a-conversation-with-my-best-friend face. Spill.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t look any less tense. “Fine. So.” He clears his throat and glances over to make sure Sokka is still engrossed in his sandwich. “Okay. Um…”

“Zuko.”

“IaccidentallyaskedKataraout?” he mumbles.

“Beg pardon?” Suki almost drops the broom, but just to be sure that he actually said what she thinks he did…

He takes a deep breath. “I…um, sorta, kinda asked Katara. To be my date. For the, um. Firehouse Ball. On accident.”

“How does one, pray tell, accidentally ask someone out?”

He looks relieved, like he thinks she’s bypassing the opportunity to make fun of him – silly Zuko, does he even know her at all? – and shrugs. “I don’t know. I was telling her about the ball and that I was getting a medal for the BSSU fire, and she says she wants to be there for me and then I say that I want her to be there for me too, only suddenly she’s talking about dress shopping while we’re here and I didn’t know what to do?”

“Hm.” Normally she’d expect more composure from Katara, but given how much Zuko stutters and fumbles around her it’s not really that hard to imagine a miscommunication this big. “So, I take it from your hushed tone that Sokka doesn’t know?”

Zuko, the man who earns his living by running into burning buildings, looks like he might be sick. “Uh, no. I was kinda hoping to maybe just…spring it on him? At the last minute?”

She snorts. “Yeah. Great plan.”

His shoulders slump. “I know, but if he finds out now he’ll kill me.”

“Nah. Katara wouldn’t let him, and even if he did get past her, there’s Gran-Gran.”

Gran-Gran, who is without a doubt the coolest old lady on the planet, thinks that Zuko is pretty much the best thing to have ever happened to her grandchildren. At mealtimes she’s always giving him second and third helpings, and when she caught him bringing in more firewood without being asked you’d think he had just invented the spoon or something.

It’s actually kind of adorable.

But Zuko doesn’t look very reassured. “I’m still sharing a room with him,” he mutters. “And Aang won’t help, he’ll just video the whole thing – “

“Zuko, you’re overreacting.” Suki flicks him on the forehead. “You’re taking the girl you have a crush on to a fancy event, and her family already thinks you’re great. Take a breath, okay?”

He puts away the broom and dustpan, and she can tell even from behind him that he’s fighting the urge to panic. She sighs, but anymore motivational speech is cut off by the arrival of Hakoda for his lunch break.

“I smell bacon,” he says immediately with a big smile that only validates everything the human race knows about genetics. Zuko shakes his head, but smiles as he goes about fixing another sandwich for the chief. Suki takes her chance to sneak away and head upstairs for a shower.

As she climbs the staircase, the pictures hanging on the wall make her feet slow down; there are so many memories in this house, some good and some sad, all coalescing in the family she’s come to know and love. It’s easy to see why Sokka and Katara are the way they are. They’ve had a life, a family that’s endured through things Suki can’t imagine (Katara had given Zuko permission to tell her about their mom – something Suki can relate to, but her memories are fuzzy because she was so young.)

It’s tempting to be jealous. But she has a family, too, with Uncle and Zuko, and she has every reason in the world to be happy – the kind of happy that she’s seeing in these pictures, where Hakoda’s got his arms around his wife in her wedding dress, where Gran-Gran’s holding both of her grandchildren for the first time, where Hakoda took a crappy camera to recitals and school award ceremonies and she can see her friends on stage with medals around their necks and their front teeth missing.

One picture catches her eye – it’s tucked in the bottom of the display, where she has to crouch to see it properly. Sokka looks like he’s sixteen or so, all confident swagger and easy charm, and he’s got his arm around a girl with long, white hair, both of them smiling like goons at the camera and the whole thing looks so completely adorable it almost gives her a toothache.

“Snoop,” Zuko teases as he comes up the stairs behind her. She can hear Hakoda and Sokka talking around mouthfuls of food from up here, but it’s a comforting sound, like no matter what changes, this house will always be home to a couple of the world’s biggest dorks.

Zuko stops on the step just below hers, and glances at all the photos. His eye catches on the one of Sokka and the girl, though, and his entire body goes rigid.

“What?”

He doesn’t answer, only stares at the picture like it’s a bomb about to go off.

“Zuko.” She shakes his shoulder. “What is it?”

“That girl…” his voice scares her. It’s rough and coarse and honestly it reminds her a lot of the guy he was when they first met all those years ago. “I know her. Or I did. She’s dead. My dad had her killed.”

Suki takes a moment to process that; it’s not really the first time he’s said those words, but it _is_ the first time they’ve been said in reference to a picture hanging in the house of someone they know.

“You didn’t know them back then.” She says.

Zuko shakes his head. “I wasn’t on that job,” and now, more than scared, he looks _pissed_. “Zhao was. That was the one where things started to go downhill for them, right before Uncle pulled me out and we found you.”

Those years of memories and scars, buried under the quiet little life they’ve built for themselves in Ba Sing Se….they’re not easy to drag out again. It’s a painful, teeth-gritting process.

“Then it wasn’t your fault.”

“I could have stopped them.”

“Don’t be an idiot. You know what would have happened if you’d tried,” she says, her voice sharp and she doesn’t feel at all sorry for the way he flinches. “Zhao was what your dad wanted you to be – “

“ – still does,” Zuko mutters angrily.

“ – but you’re not, so quit blaming yourself for being nothing more than a stupid kid who got in over his head, and for love of Koh go take a shower, you smell like an old laundromat.”

As always, her blunt, affectionate sarcasm (a trick she picked up from Toph) does its magic, and he’s surprised into a thin smile before he heads up to the bathroom. The door closes behind him, and Suki is left staring at the picture, and she can’t help but wonder if Sokka knows the truth about this girl’s death.

If he doesn’t…well, then, his and Zuko’s friendship is pretty much on a timer. He’ll find out sooner or later, and when he does no one will be able to blame him for being angry. Just looking at the body language of a picture that’s at least six years old, she can tell that this girl meant something to Sokka.

A lot of somethings, probably.

But if he does know…and he knows that Zuko’s family was involved…then Suki might have to kiss him for being Zuko’s friend anyway.

There are actually a lot of things that she could kiss Sokka for. Like when she locked her keys in her jeep and he used a coat hanger to open the door in about five seconds. Or when they were sparring and he finally managed to flip _her_ over _his_ shoulder for once, and he looked so proud of himself it was impossible for her to be irritated about losing. Or that time when she texted him about going to see a movie, and he had very sweetly declined because “katara has a rlly big test tmw and sometimes she forgets to eat so im staying over to make sure she doesnt starve but u should go anyway and let me know if its worth the extra 6 bucks to see it in 3D”.

(She hadn’t really meant to memorize that text message, but it happened anyway.)

But now she knows that she can’t kiss him. At least, not until he kisses her first. That’s the only way she’ll know if he’s ready, if he’s healed and okay after losing someone the way he has.

So, for now, she just has to be patient.

(And let him know, subtly, that if he _does_ want to kiss her, she’s totally okay with that.)

/

Katara huffs and shoves the hanger back onto the rack.

“I don’t think getting angry with the clothes will help,” Gran-Gran says mildly, holding up a knee-length periwinkle silk number. It’s cute, but…

She shrugs. Gran-Gran nods and puts the dress back, before turning and facing her granddaughter with a keen eye.

“Come, let’s get some lunch. We could both use a break.”

Katara has to agree; she’s starving, and three hours of dress shopping have resulted in absolutely nothing. She’s not sure what’s wrong with her, because normally getting to shop at home is a treat after months in the Earth Kingdom. The fabrics and furs are different here, and Water Tribe blue can’t be replicated no matter how the other nations try.

But for some reason, nothing here looks…right.

She puts her wardrobe issues out of her head, determined to enjoy this outing with Gran-Gran regardless of the results, but once they’re seated at their favorite café, she gets pinned with that look again.

“What?”

“You like this boy.”

Katara has to swallow back a retort that Zuko is hardly a _boy_ , he is a grown man with a job and responsibilities and goals and dimples and muscles, but her face flushes all the same.

“Of course,” she says lightly, turning some crackers into crumbs before dropping them into her soup. “He’s my friend. He’s nice, and dependable, and funny. Sort of.”

“My child,” Gran-Gran sprinkles a packet of artificial sweetener into her iced tea. “Don’t insult your grandmother by suggesting that I can’t tell when you like a boy.”

The look in her eyes tells Katara that resistance is futile. She sighs.

“Okay, fine. He’s great. But I’m actually surprised he even asked me to this dance thing at all.”

Gran-Gran gives a very uncharacteristic snort. “I’m not. I’m more surprised that _you_ were surprised.”

Katara is struck with the sudden memory from two days ago, when they’d first arrived at their house and Suki had turned and said Gran-Gran was what she wants to be when she gets old.

“Now then,” Gran-Gran takes a dainty bite of her sandwich. “We should probably rethink your shopping strategy.”

“My what?”

“Suppose you were going to this dance with Sokka or Aang. What would you wear?”

She has to think for a moment. “Um…something like…that navy blue lace one we found, with the white trim.”

“Mm. That one was lovely on you,” Gran-Gran smiles. “But since you’re going with Zuko, what do you think would be a better choice?”

“I don’t know,” she responds immediately.

“Precisely. You don’t know what he would like, so we need the help of someone who does.”

Katara opens her mouth to say that she doesn’t want to shop specifically for a dress that Zuko will find sexy, but the words don’t come. She just stares at her grandmother, and finally sighs again and pulls out her phone.

“Finally, an island of respite in the sea of testosterone,” Suki says.

Katara can hear muffled shouting and what sound an awful lot like war cries in the background. She’s not worried though; Zuko’s home to make sure the house doesn’t get completely demolished, not to mention Gran-Gran is the kind of woman who can inspire fear without even having to be there.

“Is it that bad?” she asks.

“Right now they’re having a contest to see who can blow marshmallows out of their nose the furthest across the living room.”

Maybe leaving Zuko in charge wasn’t the best idea.

“Well, I actually could really use some help,” she says. “Can you meet me at the IDC in about ten minutes?”

“You’re saying ten, but I’m hearing five,” Suki responds. Now Katara can pick up the sounds of keys and hurried footsteps. “I honestly was about to go insane. Don’t get me wrong, Katara, they’re all great and I love them, but…”

“I know.” She laughs. “Just get up here and help me find a hot dress.”

/

“No.” Suki takes the bright crimson, floor length number out of Katara’s hands and puts it back.

“You said red.”

“Yeah, but not neon.”

Katara huffs. “Okay…so what shade are we looking for, then?”

“Something like…..this.” Suki holds up a dress that looks pretty boring to Katara, but the color is nice – almost like a brick red, without being dull or too dark.

The dress gets shoved literally into her hands, and then Katara is shoved into a dressing room.

“Trust me,” Suki says through the door. “Just try it on.”

The dress is a one-strap thing, and after Katara wrestles into it she surveys herself in the mirror, surprised at how good it looks. What looked boring on the hanger just looks simple and timeless on her, and the side cutouts don’t hurt any, either. She turns; it’s pretty snug but there’s a sizable slit on one side so she can walk easily.

Suki nods after one glance.

“Yep. That’s the one.”

“You’re sure?” Katara pulls her hair over one shoulder.

“Pair it with some gold shoes, and he’ll be drooling all night long.”

Great. Now Katara’s face matches the dress.

“Hey.” Suki turns, suddenly no longer teasing. “Zuko’s my best friend and closest thing I’ll ever have to a brother. I wouldn’t help you shop for a dress if I didn’t think he was into you.”

Katara squints at her, suddenly realizing the lengths Suki’s going to just to show her support.

“Thanks, Suki.”

“Don’t mention it. Now, let’s go get pedicures, and then we’ll go blow our bank accounts on shoes. I need a third pair of black stilettos, anyway.”

 /

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suki is a total shopaholic when it comes to cute shoes, and Gran-Gran totally dotes on Zuko nothing you say will ever convince me otherwise.


	9. 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hands you a wine glass to go with this REALLY cheesy chapter*

Zuko’s nervous.

To be fair, it’s not because Katara’s family is doing anything on purpose to make him feel this way; he’s been a little on edge ever since they got here, and now it’s Katara’s birthday, and also the last night of the Messenger Feast, so the party will be double the food, double the music, and double the anxiety for him. Katara told him she’s not a princess, but it’s obvious that everyone in her hometown likes her. Not that he can blame them.

He glances over at the dance floor; the traditional portion of the party ended a couple of hours ago, and now it’s just a birthday celebration with loud music and strobe lights everywhere, someone spiked the punch and even though he’s only had one cup it’s doing nothing for Zuko’s ability to keep himself from staring at Katara.

Which, in his defense, isn’t completely his fault. She’s wearing this gauzy, short – _really_ short – dress that kind of floats around her, but is still clingy in all of the best places. It’s pale blue, almost white, and it really does wonderful things for her complexion.

She looks like something his subconscious would dream up. Only it’s real, her smile and the way she’s spinning and laughing with her friends, the neon lights making her glow and if his eyes weren’t drawn to her already, they definitely would be once she catches his gaze.

It takes a minute, but she manages to extricate herself from the dance floor and makes her way over to him; he’s propped up against a column near the door, holding Suki’s drink while she’s in the bathroom.

“You look lonely. And bored.”

He smiles. Katara is flushed and breathless and happy. It almost hurts to look at her.

“I’m okay,” he says. “Are you having fun?”

She nods. “Yeah,” she turns to look in fond exasperation at her goofy friends, still jumping around and screaming. “I don’t usually go for this kind of party, but once in a while it’s fun to let loose.”

Zuko doesn’t really get the concept of letting loose, but he nods. “They do this every year?”

“Pretty much,” she shrugs. “This year it just happened to fall on the same night as the feast, so I guess that makes it feel like a bigger deal than usual. We’re gonna be exhausted tomorrow.”

That reminds him – he wants to actually give her present _on_ her birthday. “Hey, um…in a little while, can we go for a walk? I have your present.”

Katara adopts a look that tells him she’s trying to be mad, but is secretly pleased. “You said you wouldn’t get me anything –“

“That was for Christmas,” he retorts. “I made no such promise regarding your birthday.”

He has her, and she knows it; her mouth opens and closes a few times before she playfully scowls at him. “Well, you still shouldn’t have.”

“Okay, but I _did_ , and I want you to have it on your actual birthday, so whenever you’re ready to get out of here, come find me?”

She stares at him for a moment, then sets her drink on the closest table. “I’m ready.”

He starts, feeling guilty. “Wha – not right now, you’re the guest of honor, they’ll miss you – “

“They can get over the fact that the birthday girl would rather be somewhere else right now.” Katara’s smirk makes his fingers clench around Suki’s plastic cup.

“O-okay,” he stutters. “Let me…um, let – actually, here – “

By some miracle, Aang walks by at that precise moment. Zuko shoves Suki’s drink into his hand, which Aang accepts bemusedly, giving Zuko a smirk when he sees Katara tugging him toward the door. Zuko feels his face heat, but Aang is already turned away, so it’s probably a safe bet that he won’t be telling Sokka where they’re going. And that’s really all Zuko’s worried about.

He helps Katara into her coat, grabs his, and then lets out a sigh when the door shuts behind them. His ears are ringing, but outside there’s silence except for the wind and their footsteps, squeaking and crunching on the hard-packed snow.

“So, is my present just a stroll through my hometown?”

He grins. “No, I have something set up for you. And are you sure it’s okay if you leave early?”

“It’s fine, but I promise I’ll give you a five-second warning if an angry mob starts chasing us.”

His eyes narrow. _Sassy_. “As long as they don’t make me eat sea prunes.”

She shoves him, and he stumbles off the sidewalk, laughing.

“Jerk,” she scolds, but she’s laughing at the same time and there’s no sting in the word.

They walk on, quieter, and Zuko’s nerves wind tighter with every step, until he’s like a coiled spring as he turns to go up the front steps of the Performing Arts Center.

Katara frowns. “What…what are we doing here?”

“Getting your birthday present,” he says. It’s all he can manage to get out of his throat, because _dear Agni_ he really wants her to like this.

The doors are still unlocked, the lights off and even though Katara knows this building better than him, he reaches for her hand anyway, smiling when her fingers close around his, and he leads her down the hallway, to the biggest practice room in the very back. He gently tugs her to stand in the center of the room, and releases her.

“Wait here.”

She quirks an eyebrow, but does as he asks. Zuko heads over to the table in the corner, gets the CD ready, and carries the package back over to where she’s waiting patiently.

“Happy birthday.”

_Please like it._

Her hands get the wrapping paper halfway off when she freezes, and looks up at him. All traces of teasing and humor are gone; instead there is utter shock, which doesn’t go away even when she looks back down to what she’s holding.

“It’s – you told me, about how your mom got you started in dance when you were so little, and how she would help you with trickier moves, because she was regional champion, and then you told me that she danced to – “

“ _You’re the Inspiration._ Chicago,” Katara finishes for him. The cardboard cover is worn a little on the edges, the vinyl record probably doesn’t sound as good as the digital recording, and he doesn’t even know where she’ll find a record player. But the look on her face tells him she doesn’t care about any of that. Her voice is rough and quiet, and her eyes are shining. “Zuko, I –“

He remembers the night she told him all of this. It was while Druk was still staying with her, and he’d come over for supper, and he noticed something was off but she wasn’t very talkative about it, at least until she admitted that it was coming up on her mother’s birthday. Cautiously, he’d asked her to tell him what Kya Makivik was like, and it had been like opening the floodgates. They’d talked – mostly her – until almost three in the morning.

“You said that she chose this song, because you were just a few months old, and you and your brother and your dad…they were the reason your mom loved to dance. And you…you said that…that was the most important thing she ever taught you.”

He’d already bought her present by then, having asked Sokka for the song title, but on their second night here, Katara was showing him ‘the _proper_ way to make hot chocolate’. Gran-Gran kept an old radio in the kitchen, and this song had come on while the milk was heating.

That’s a special memory, too. Any memory where Katara opens up more of herself to him…it makes him feel content, more so than he’s ever allowed himself to be.

Katara’s face is crumpled a little around the edges, and he’s not sure if her tears are a good sign or not, but before he can say anything else, Katara wraps her arms around him, settling against him like she belongs there, and the anxious knot in his chest disintegrates.

“Thank you,” he hears her whisper.

He folds his arms around her shoulders and waist, lets his chin rest on the top of her head. “You’re welcome.”

How long they stand there, he has no idea, but eventually he clears his throat. “Do, um…do you want the other half of your present?”

Katara leans back to glare at him, but doesn’t let go. “ _The other_ – are you kidding me?”

“Well, to be clear, this half comes with…um, stipulations.”

Her incredulous look switches to curiosity. “Oh?”

Reluctantly, he lets go of her to hold one finger up. “You _cannot_ – and I mean _ever_ – tell anyone about this. Especially Suki, or Sokka, or Uncle. Or your dad.”

Now she looks downright intrigued. “Um. Okay.”

Zuko takes a deep breath, and darts over to the table again to hit play. He’s picked something slow, because he’s had nightmares about tripping over his shoelaces and falling on his face. It doesn’t really matter that he’s wearing loafers and they don’t even _have_ shoelaces; with his luck anything is possible.

“Okay, so I haven’t done this in a while, so…keep your disdain to yourself, please.”

“In a while?” she smiles, puts her hand on his shoulder and folds the fingers of her other had around his. “I didn’t know you could dance.”

“Yeah, uh…” he swallows. “My mom made me take lessons back in Caldera.”

“ _Oooh_ ,” she raises her eyebrows, pretending not to notice when he steps on her foot. “So you can do way more than slow dancing.”

He rolls his eyes, already knowing where this is headed. “Yeah, once upon a time.”

“I don’t know,” she eyes him playfully, and something in his chest skips and stutters around. “Muscle memory is a powerful thing.”

He glances down to where his feet are making slow, clumsy circles with hers. “You’re about to make me dance, aren’t you?”

“We _are_ dancing.”

“You know what I mean.”

Her only answer is a sly grin, and then she’s walking over to the stereo. Zuko takes a moment to wipe his sweaty palms on his pants, praying to whoever’s listening that he won’t make a total idiot of himself.

When she returns, he pauses, and grins when he looks down and sees her bare feet. Her fancy heels were under the table. “Wow, you’re really short.”

She thumps him gently on the chest. “My feet were hurting, and I’m not _really short_ , you’re just really tall.”

He shrugs. Either way, he’ll have to slouch if he wants to put his chin on her head again. Which, he does want to. He clears his throat to distract himself from how much he wants to.

“Okay.” Katara adjusts his hold, so his palm is firm on her shoulder blade, his free hand feather-light against hers. They’re not standing very close, but the concentration Katara is showing makes it seem much more intimate than he expected. “We’re not going to try anything very difficult, just a basic waltz. How’s that?”

Surely he can manage counting to three. “That’s fine.”

The music starts, and Zuko has a brief moment of panic – _what comes after one?_ – but then Katara is moving, gliding across the floor, and taking him with her. He stumbles a bit, catches up, manages to fall into the rhythm even though he knows all the technicalities are wrong, but right now he can’t take his eyes off of Katara’s face. She’s staring right back though, and it’s not awkward at all.

It’s…nice.

He has no idea how long they dance, just in big circles around the room; at some point muscle memory does kick in, after all, and he remembers to roll his heel and pull his shoulders back, and now he’s sort of slid into the lead, since the man is supposed to do that anyway in the waltz.

Eventually Katara steps away. It’s ridiculous, he hadn’t been touching any part of her except her shoulder and her hand, but he feels cold now.

“Wanna try something else?”

Something tells him that ‘something else’ is going to involve a lot more than counting to three.

“S-uh, sure.”

She goes to change the music, and Zuko removes his jacket. He’s not stupid enough to think that this isn’t going to be a workout, a kind that he’s not used to.

Once she’s back in front of him, she steps closer, slowly, back into his hold.

“What next?”

“Rumba.”

His heart is pounding so loudly he’s positive she can hear it; the music starts back, Katara goes up on her toes, and she’s closer, so much closer than she was a few minutes ago, but his legs are moving and they must be doing the right thing because they don’t fall and he doesn’t step on her toes.

A few moments in, and Katara spins under his arm; somehow he knows how to draw her back in, then it’s his turn, and when he comes back around she’s smiling, so brightly it makes his chest ache.

They keep dancing. Katara makes up moves as they go, Zuko follows as best he can, but then he gets an idea, and waits for her to spin away again, and prays that he doesn’t drop her.

When she comes back to him, skirt swirling around her thighs and a giggle escaping her throat, he drops her hand, clenches both of his around her hips, and lifts her, spinning her around. Her giggle gets cut off by a gasp, and she instinctively grabs his shoulders. He’s surprised by how light she is; she might not be petite but he pulls her against him easily, shifts so that his arms are locked around her hips and hers are around his neck.

Their faces are so close. He can feel her short, quick breaths on his skin. He can smell her perfume and sweat. The combination is making him woozy.

“You…you’re really good for someone who doesn’t remember how to…um, how to dance.”

Katara, to his immense joy, sounds just as breathless as he feels. Her thumb is absently rubbing circles on his shoulders, her cheeks are pink and honestly, it should be illegal for someone to be this beautiful.

“You helped me remember,” he murmurs. Something in her blue eyes gets softer, and he probably would have noticed how she was staring at his mouth if he hadn’t been so busy staring at hers.

The first touch sends a jolt of heat down his spine. The second touch sends an impulse to his arms to hold her tighter, an impulse he doesn’t even try to fight. Her hands are in his hair, their torsos are plastered together from shoulder to hip, and she tastes nothing like he thought she would – stale fruit punch and salt, and when her mouth opens against his and he feels her moan softly, his fingers dig into her sides a little more as he slowly lowers her to her feet.

She doesn’t let go of him, clinging to him like she can’t stand on her own, but Zuko finds himself running his hands over her back, her arms, shoulders, hips – everywhere he can reach.

Abruptly, she breaks away, panting and staring up at him.

His apology dies on his lips when she laughs in surprise.

“What?”

“You taste like brownies.”

For a second, he thinks that maybe Katara is a little _too_ light-headed, but then he remembers – he had some brownies at the party. He hadn’t thought about it till just now.

He laughs with her, but he doesn’t waste any time in cradling her face in his hands, and kissing her again.

 _They weren’t as good as yours,_ he thinks, and then he thinks that maybe he should tell her, but then Katara sighs against him, and he isn’t capable of much thought after that.

/

Suki likes a good party as much as the next person, but after a while it gets to be too much, and when that happens she normally finds Zuko, who’s usually been ready to leave from the moment he arrived.

But tonight, that’s not an option. She knows where Zuko’s gone, but short of the apocalypse, Suki’s not bothering him until sometime around lunch.

So, for now, she’s out on the back deck of the town hall that doubles as the community center. There’s no one else out here, since it’s obscenely cold, but she’s got a good coat. She’ll be fine.

The door opens suddenly, and she turns to watch a familiar silhouette shut it behind him.

“I thought you were a party animal.”

He turns to her, surprised. “Well, I am, but everyone else is getting kinda annoyed at how subpar their partying is compared to mine, so I figured I’d be the bigger person.”

She grins. At some point, all of his dumb jokes became funny to her.

Sokka joins her at the railing, leaning on his forearms. Suki swallows at the sight of his shirt sleeves rolled up and exposing the muscles, thick and corded. For all his pig-headedness on that first day in her dojo, he seems awfully unaware of his looks, and the effect they have on her.

To distract herself, she glances around at the scenery. The Southern Water Tribe is beautiful, though a different kind than she’s used to. Still, she finds her eyes drawn to Sokka. He’s staring up at the moon.

“So, I’m guessing you probably have a good idea of where Zuko has taken my sister.”

That wasn’t what she expected. “Uh, yes.” She worries for a moment that he’s actually displeased. “Sokka, I know I’m biased but you have to believe me when I tell you that Zuko would never – “

“Suki,” he laughs slightly, “I’m not going to hunt them down with a machete. I just wondered.”

“Oh.” Great, now she feels bad for assuming. “I – “

“Though for what it’s worth, I’ll probably be tempted to embarrass them as much as possible in the next few days. And then I’ll hug them both because they’re a couple of idiots for taking this long.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” Suki rolls her eyes. “Especially not from the guy who admitted to checking me out the same day he decided to loathe my soul for all eternity.”

She thinks he’ll laugh, but instead he wraps a hand around her upper arm, turning her gently to face him.

“I never hated you,” he says. His blue eyes are bright and intense in the moonlight. “Is that really what you thought? That I hated you?”

He sounds genuinely upset, hurt even, but Suki doesn’t know what to say. He seems to take her silence as an answer, and he swears under his breath before he steps closer, so she has to tilt her head back to keep eye contact.

“Suki, I was terrified of you. You’re witty and nice and gorgeous and capable, I’d never seen a woman like you before. It was…well, it was a little unsettling. More than a little. A lot. A lot unsettling.”

She processes that – easily the best compliment she’s ever gotten, but ultimately she decides she doesn’t care if she sounds shallow.

“You think I’m gorgeous?”

Sokka doesn’t miss a beat. “ _Obnoxiously_ so.”

He came closer at some point. Suki is remaining as still as she can, even though his hand is resting on top hers, on the railing, his callused thumb running smooth traces across the back of her wrist. It makes her want to turn her hand over, grab his arm and yank him towards her.

But she remembers the girl in the picture by the stairs, and she doesn’t move.

He shuffles a little closer. She smiles.

That doesn’t mean she has to chase him off.

“How can someone be obnoxiously gorgeous?”

He shrugs. “By having great abs and pretty blue eyes and great hair even when they’ve been working out for two hours.”

“Wow, aren’t we full of ourselves,” she says, but then her eyes widen as understanding – and a smirk – light up his face.

“ _Reeeally_.” He maneuvers around her; her back is against the railing and his hands come up on either side of her. “You think I’m obnoxiously gorgeous.”

“Emphasis on the obnoxious part,” she manages. She doesn’t know what that look in his eyes means. She wants to, though. She wants to know what that look means better than she knows anything else on earth.

Sokka shakes his head. “You know, Suki, you’re almost as bad at flirting as I am.”

“Not much practice.” She says it offhandedly, but something in his face turns a little sad.

“Yeah, me neither,” he tells her softly. One hand comes up, brushes her temple gently. “That’s okay, though, right?”

She smiles. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s okay.”

He doesn’t smile in return, but just looks at her. “I…I, um, want to learn.”

Her breath catches, and she wants to hug him because the look his eyes, it tells her what he’s thinking about. And he shouldn’t feel guilty for grieving, for hurting. She can’t stand the thought of him trying to move on too quickly just for her sake. She’s not worth that much.

“It’ll take some time, though. I’m a slow learner.” He looks afraid. Suki, unable to help herself any longer, reaches up and takes his face between her hands. He sinks into her, and something inside of her glows at the thought of being his source of comfort. “Can…can you be patient? Wait, just for a little while?”

Suki reaches up, presses her lips carefully on his forehead. “Yes.”

What she means to say is that he can take all the time he needs to. But she thinks that maybe he understands, because his smile looks a little less fake now, and when he hugs her, pulls her close and she wraps her arms around him, she knows that _this_ …this will be worth the wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay but on a scale of 1 to 10 my regret for this sap-fest is like, -100000.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little shorter, and it’s all Sokka/Zuko bromance because I love these two idiots. Sorry if the length is disappointing, but nothing I added on felt right. I at least have the next chapter partially done! Hope you like it.
> 
> ***IMPORTANT***  
> I've never done this but I'd rather be safe than sorry. This chapter mentions (but does not contain) torture and death. Those of you who usually heed trigger warnings, please proceed with caution.

As a general rule, Zuko doesn’t sleep in. Part of it is residual – Ozai never let him sleep late, too many enemies to bury and too much money to steal – and part of it is that he actually likes waking up early, getting started on his day. Suki thinks he’s weird, but he can’t stand lying in bed awake, so when he wakes up at six-thirty every morning that’s it for him.

Right now, though, he’s beginning to see why Suki relishes her mornings off. This bed, which is really just a cot shoved into the corner of Sokka’s room, is actually pretty comfortable, and he’s warm, and actually kind of sleepy.

Of course, the last part is completely his fault, but he doesn’t feel one bit of regret.

He and Katara didn’t get back to the house until almost two o’clock this morning. As far as he knows, no one heard them come in, and Hakoda hasn’t barged in swinging a machete so Zuko figures they’re in the all clear. And after a late night – a _fantastic_ late night – he deserves a lie-in.

Besides, Katara’s not here – she took Suki and Gran-Gran out shopping with her one last time before they leave in two days. Uncle and Aang are off bonding – Zuko imagines briefly them splitting their time between antique markets and pet stores – and Hakoda had to work today, since he took off so many days for the feast.  

He’s in the middle of a subconscious replay of last night when he’s rudely awakened.

By a pillow to his face, and an unnaturally cheerful Sokka.

“What – “

“Get up, loser, we’re going exercising.”

Sokka drops the pillow on Zuko’s head and marches back out of the room, and Zuko mumbles something before he rolls back over, and he’s drifting back off to sleep when suddenly there’s something large, heavy, and squirmy on top of him.

He squints, and rolls his eyes. “Sokka, get off.”

“No can do, brosef. I’m getting antsy from all this time spent away from the gym. Let’s go.”

Zuko grumbles and debates whether he can go back to sleep with Sokka sitting on top of his legs, but a few seconds later he jerks awake, and gives Sokka the stink-eye.

“Don’t do that.”

“Why?” Sokka grins, and pokes him in the side again. “Are you ticklish? Does _Katara_ know?”

His next jab hits Zuko’s worst spot, right between the ribs, and then suddenly Sokka is on his back on the floor, wheezing slightly.

“Did you have to –“

“Yes,” Zuko deadpans. Not even Suki dares to tickle him. But he trusts Sokka’s insanity more than his good judgment, so he rolls out of bed. “Your plan worked, at least. Now I’m really in the mood to kick your butt.”

Sokka bounds to his feet. “Goody! I have protein bars and water bottles ready to go.”

Zuko watches him skip out of the room, and shakes his head. The _one_ morning in years he’s tried to sleep in, and his idiot friend ruins it.

He fights a smile, and changes into shorts and a tank top before following. Sokka is waiting out in his dad’s truck, with chains on the tires and some rap song turned up so loud the windshield wipers are vibrating loudly against the glass.

He’s treated the whole fifteen minute ride to the gym to Sokka’s _awful_ rapping – he can’t wait for Suki to hear this so she can show him how it’s done because she’s actually really good and it’s always hilarious – and by the time they climb out of the cab, Zuko thinks he can still feel the bass in his skull.

The headache goes away by the time they’ve finished their warmups, so he’s able to actually enjoy himself by the time they start sparring. Sokka’s jokes are just as terrible as they were the first day, but now Zuko can’t help but snort at one every once in a while. He’s in the middle of hauling out the mannequins when Sokka says it.

“Don’t think we didn’t notice how long you and Katara were gone last night.”

He freezes, not sure what he’s supposed to do or say here. He’s not stupid enough to think that he _needs_ Sokka or Hakoda or even Gran-Gran’s permission.

But this family invited three strangers into their home for the holidays. He’s spent late nights watching Parks and Rec with Hakoda, afternoons with Sokka debating which Power Ranger is the best one and Gran-Gran has made him gain at least ten pounds. They sucked him in fast, like quicksand that he didn’t have a chance of escaping.

Except, he doesn’t really want to. He’s caught himself laughing at Hakoda whenever he quotes Rob Swanson. Sokka’s text tone is the Power Rangers alert, but it sounds like the Kim Possible one instead so Zuko has been driving him up the wall by yelling _what’s the sitch_ every time it goes off. And Gran-Gran...she’s probably the only person on the planet who could outcook Uncle.

He _wants_ their approval. He wants them to think that he’s good enough for Katara. He wants them to consider him part of the family for more reasons than the ones they already have.

His worry must show on his face, because Sokka all of a sudden gets serious.

“Hey, I’m not upset. Dad’s not either. I mean, obviously we’d love for Katara to become a nun and never go near a man, but we’re not stupid. Or mad.”

The tightness in his chest eased up a little. “You’re not?”

Sokka looked at him with a _duh_ expression. “No, we’re not. You’re perfect for Katara.”

Well, that’s not something he exactly hates to hear, but he certainly never expected Sokka to be the one to tell him. “Uh…I am?”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “Yeah, man, my sister’s been worrying and taking care of people her whole life. I need her, too, because I’d probably fall in a hole and die without Katara there to mother me. At the very least I’d never have clean clothes.”

Zuko has to agree; he’s spent more than one lazy afternoon hanging out in the basement laundry room of Katara’s apartment building while she does her brother’s laundry along with her own.

“But she’s never had someone to take care of her,” Sokka says, a little more quietly. Zuko watches him. Sokka knows that Zuko knows about Kya – he’s just never brought it up before. But looking at his face now, Zuko thinks that while Sokka escape the trauma that Katara experienced, he’d felt the loss just as keenly.

“Dad tried, at first. He tried to be both parents, to run the city and cook and clean and everything, all on his own. Gran-Gran moved in and it helped, but Katara…I don’t know, it’s like she just decided that Mom would want _her_ to do everything.”

The emotions in Sokka’s voice hurt a little to hear. Zuko stands just outside arm’s reach, awkwardly clutching the mannequin and wondering if he’s supposed to hug him or something.

“I remember,” Sokka laughed, though his eyes were bright and glassy with sorrow, “I remember her asking me one day to help her with the laundry. I didn’t want to, I didn’t know anything about that stuff, but she explained that she couldn’t reach. I had to pick her up and lift her so she could reach inside the washing machine to get the clothes out.”

He can picture it, and he understands the strange, twisted smile Sokka has. Bittersweet memories do that to you. He clears his throat.

“You, um. You’re a good brother, Sokka. And I know Katara makes her own decisions, but you being okay with it, that…that means a lot to me.”

Sokka nods, and for a moment Zuko debates with himself, but then he remembers the way Sokka looks at Suki, like he’s afraid to let himself want her, and the words come tumbling out.

“I-I need to tell you something.”

Sokka backs up, his eyes wide. “Look, dude, I know I said I’m cool with you dating my sister, but if she’s, like pregnant or something, I – “

“ _What?_ ” Zuko yelps. “No, Sokka, that’s – “

“Okay,” Sokka says, taking some deep breaths. “Sorry, it’s just…the context, y’know…”

“Sure,” Zuko laughs in relief, but that ball of nerves is back, settling thick and uneasy in his gut. “It’s, um…it’s actually about me.”

Sokka doesn’t say anything. Just looks at him. Zuko swallows, his throat dry, and makes himself maintain eye contact.

“When I was a kid, my dad ran a crime ring in Caldera. My great grandfather started it, and the business got handed down in the family.”

“What kind of stuff did they deal with?”

Zuko appreciates the non-judgmental tone, as well as the deliberate use of _they_ instead of _you_. But in some ways it just makes this whole thing even harder. Still – Sokka deserves to know.

“Drugs. Human trafficking. Murderers for hire. Theft. Smuggling. Anything, really.”

Sokka nods, still with that serious yet open look on his face.

“Mostly, though, what we were known for was arson.”

“Arson?” Sokka echoes, the first traces of unease flickering in his eyes.

Zuko swallows. “If…if anybody crossed us, then we had a special crew who knew how to remove evidence. The authorities knew it was us, but they couldn’t prove it.”

He doesn’t mention the stories he grew up on, of a peaceful neighborhood, the community leaders of which refused to allow Phoenix drugs to be sold on their streets, of entire rows of houses lit on fire, of the screams echoing in the night and of the greatest unsolved crime in Caldera history, of the stone monument that had been erected in the harbor in honor of the massacre.

The massacre that Zuko’s great grandfather had orchestrated.

Sokka looks like he knows where this is going. But his eyes haven’t turned dark in hatred yet, so Zuko figures he’ll just keep going until he gets there.

“My, uh, my father wanted to expand our market and push to sell in the Northern Water Tribe.”

Sokka’s eyes slide shut.

“There was this ambassador visiting, and he told my father no, straight out, and –“

“Stop,” Sokka whispers.

Zuko claps his mouth shut. Sokka is staring at the floor, and unsurprisingly there are tears running down his cheeks. Zuko wishes he could cry. He envies the release of tears, of the ability to let some of the pain escape and not have to carry it like he does everything else.

Sokka shakes his head. “Were…did you – ?”

“No.” Zuko can’t the word out fast enough, desperate to tell the _one_ shred of good news in this pathetic story – he didn’t strike the flame, he didn’t barricade the doors and windows. He didn’t stand in the streets and listen as a houseful of innocent people burned to death.

“I…I tried. To stop them.”

Sokka looks up at that. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Zuko is the one looking at the floor now. “I, uh, spoke up in one of the business meetings. I said it wasn’t fair to go after him because it wasn’t like we’d be able to sell up north anyway.”

There’s a pause, then, “What happened then?”

Zuko hesitates, but he promised himself he’d tell the whole story. Sokka isn’t just Katara’s brother. He’s his friend.

“My father….” He trails off. Then shrugs, and points to his the left side of his face. “He gave me this, to remind me not to speak against him.”

Beneath the brown tone of his skin, Sokka looks unnaturally pale. He visibly swallows, and it’s like he’s incapable of speech for a moment or two. He manages, in a strangled voice, “He – how…but – “

“Cigarette lighter,” Zuko says softly. He remembers thinking that burning flesh had never smelled so bad to him before then. “He, um…he had a couple of his thugs hold me down on the conference table.”

“ _Conf_ – he did that in front of everyone?” Sokka’s voice has an edge of steel, something raw that Zuko has only ever heard from Uncle, and then only rarely.

Zuko shrugs, not sure why Sokka seems the most horrified by the aspect of it being a public display. “He always said the screams had the biggest impact on people, more than anything else.”

Sokka looks like he could throw up all over the mats, and after a moment he swears under his breath and turns away, pacing a little. Finally, he faces him again.

“Right, so….I have no idea what to do so I’m just gonna go with what Katara would probably do.”

And without another word, Sokka walks forward and wraps him up in a big, enormous bear hug.

For a second, Zuko just stands there, because honestly this is the _last_ thing he expected. Then Sokka sort of trembles against him, and there’s something wet on his shoulder and that makes Zuko’s arms come up and reciprocate all on their own.

“I’m sorry,” he mutters, surprised to feel his own eyes stinging. “I – Suki saw that picture by the stairs, and I recognized her, and I just – I’m _so sorry_ , Sokka, I – “

Sokka steps back, his eyes red and face wet but there’s a determined set to his jaw. “Look man, you got that,” he points, and something in his voice keeps the usual shame from creeping up Zuko’s throat, “protecting someone you didn’t even know. You got that trying to help the girl I loved. You have absolutely _nothing_ to be sorry for.”

Zuko’s breath catches in his chest, and he stumbles back into the hug because all of a sudden he’s crying and Sokka’s shoulders seem like a good place to do that.

/

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sokka totally smothered Zuko with hugs in canon you will never convince me otherwise


	11. 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yet another emotional chapter, but it also has Sokka watching TLC so maybe it won't be too bad. Let it be known that his views re: overbearing family members on Say Yes To the Dress exactly reflect my own and I won't apologize for how strongly I feel about it because it's resulted in me actually having to change the channel because of rage.

Sokka considers himself a pretty go-with-the-flow kind of guy.

For example, his baby sister is now dating a guy with a possible juvenile criminal record (possible because, well, they never got around to talking about that), and he’s totally cool with it.

Part of him wonders what’s wrong with him – once upon a time, he would have waited up at the kitchen table, sharpening his machete for those two idiots to come home after Katara’s party.

But he’s neither blind nor stupid, so he’s seen over the last few months how happy Katara is whenever Zuko’s around. And it’s not like Zuko just thinks she’s cute – he keeps better track of her schedule than Sokka does, brings her coffee during her breaks at school, is just an all-around great guy. Exactly the kind of guy that any good brother would want his sister to date.

So, he’s fine. Really. Maybe a little weirded out, but that will pass (hopefully) and then he can start making fun of them for being a couple of sappy dorks.

For now, though, he’ll settle for making Zuko take Katara to dinner at her favorite restaurant. They have one more night after this one, and Gran-Gran’s already made them all promise to be here for dinner tomorrow.

Sokka had to almost beg the losers to leave the house, though. They were both worried he’d get lonely – Uncle, Gran-Gran, Dad, Suki and Aang went bowling, which is something Sokka really sucks at and therefore declined – but he just pulled the last frozen pizza out and waved the tv remote in their direction.

“I have five episodes of Say Yes To the Dress waiting on my dvr,” he tells them. “And I can’t concentrate if you two are in the room making goo-goo eyes at each other, so just _go_ , already.”

They did, eventually, and now Sokka is scraping the last drippings of ice cream out of the carton while scolding Mallory for not picking the strapless Vera Wang she liked over the sensible, lace Ferretti that her mother preferred.

The back door opens. He frowns.

“I swear, ‘Tara, if you ditched your boyfriend to come binge watch a reality wedding show with me I will kill you – “

He fumbles awkwardly around the rest of his threat, though, when Suki’s face pops around the corner instead.

“Oh, well…um, hey. Hi.”

He refuses to blush. Blushing is for children, not suave men who realized only a couple of days ago that the woman they’ve been crushing on for months now is open to his advances.

Although the fact that apparently Suki knows about Yue…that does make him squirm a little.

“Hey.” Suki kicks off her shoes and collapses onto the couch. “Zuko texted me that you were stuck here by yourself.”

Sokka rolls his eyes. “I was by myself by choice. He’s such a _mom_.”

Suki laughs, but eyes him a little. “He is, but I can go if this your me-time, or something.”

“No!” Sokka doesn’t mean to shout, she’s sitting less than two feet away for Tui’s sake. He swallows and tries again. “No, I mean – you’re welcome to stay. We can dig out some leftovers and there’s another thing of ice cream. You can sit with me and help me judge the mothers-in-law who are trying to take over a decision that should be for the bride alone.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

She smiles, and nestles further into the cushions. “Well, in that case, I think the worst offenders are actually the grooms. Or the maids of honor.”

Sokka has to agree – he’s seen more than his fair share of brides at Kleinfield’s who don’t get the dress of their dreams because it doesn’t make somebody else happy. It’s a thorn in his side, really.

Almost without trying, they launch into a discussion about the merits of a wedding dress that costs as much as a used car, and before Sokka realizes it he’s sharing the last carton of ice cream with her. It’s nice; they have this nice rhythm going where she scoops another bite out while he’s still chewing, and vice versa, so their spoons never clash and there are no awkward pauses between bites.

He’s not going to complain that eating ice cream in the middle of winter at the South Pole means that Suki’s arm and thigh are completely pressed against his own, either.

The last episode Sokka had recorded is wrapping up right as they finish the last of the ice cream. He half expects there to be an awkward lull while he tries to find something else to do, but Suki takes their spoons to the kitchen and he thinks his heart genuinely skips a beat or two when she comes back carrying the Battleship box.

He’s such a dork.

They’re both still hungry, and end up splitting a plate of Gran-Gran’s teriyaki wings. He gets sauce all over his submarine, and he’s reasonably sure Suki’s cheating, but this is the most fun he’s had in months. Suki keeps impersonating movie characters – right now the theme is James Bond villains – and it’s got him in stitches, which is weird but nice since usually he’s the comic relief.

It’s not until he recovers from her Blofield impression (he _cried_ , okay, this girl has a gift) that things take an abrupt turn.

He’s explaining why Connery is the best Bond, hands down, and Suki decides to tease him for being such a Bond junkie.

“Figures you’d like one of the most sexist movie franchises of all time.” Her smile takes any real rebuke away, though, and he shrugs, putting his arm along the back of the couch and tries to ignore the fact that she’s got her feet tucked under his legs.

“What can I say, I admire a guy who always gets the girl.”

“Yeah,” she scoffs, “like you need any help in that department.”

At first he wants to laugh, because honestly he’s the furthest thing from a ladies’ man, and _haha_ he can laugh at himself, sure. But then he thinks that maybe she’s talking about, well… _them_ , and it’s all he can do to not choke on his own tongue. He glances up, and the horrified look on her face suddenly makes him realize that’s not what she meant, either.

She swears. “Sokka, I – _crap_. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have….”

He stares dumbly at her, a little surprised at how upset she seems to be with herself.

“Suki – “

“I just, I don’t know it just came out, I didn’t mean….I never would – “

“Suki – “

“But I saw the picture, and you looked so happy with her, and you were so good to Zuko about the whole thing, that meant _so much_ to me, and I – “

He finally gets her attention by moving the game to the coffee table, and scooting forward so he can take her hands.

“Hey.”

She blinks at him, and something warm bubbles in his chest at the worried frown lines between her eyes. It’s probably selfish, but the knowledge that she’s this upset at just potentially hurting him, the knowledge that she cares so much…well, it feels pretty awesome. He rubs his thumb across her knuckles.

“Suki, I’m fine.”

She starts to shake her head. He lifts one hand and pokes her nose.

“How about you let me decide what does and does not upset me, okay?” His voice is light and gentle, but she takes the chastisement for what it is. She relaxes a little, and tightens her grip on his hands.

“I could never hold that against Zuko. He was just a kid, and he was scared and angry, and Koh knows I’ve been there. My baby sister’s been there. I’m in no place to judge him for that. Add in what his father did to him…” Here, Sokka trails off. Suki’s eyes are big and blue and sad, but there’s no pity in them.

“He’s spent his whole life hating himself, for who he used to be.” Suki clears her throat. “It’s not like I wouldn’t have tried to understand if you couldn’t forgive him, but…Sokka, he’s my _best friend_ , and I – “

“Hey, hey,” he soothes, letting go of one of her hands so he can brush away the lone tear that’s escaped down her cheek. “You’re okay.”

“I never told you how I met him and Uncle, did I?”

He just shakes his head. She smiles, but it looks a little forced.

“I, um. I was thirteen, and my family’s home caught fire. Electrical wiring went bad, or something. My parents didn't make it, but Uncle was the firefighter who pulled me out.”

Sokka just stares at her, in awe of how much pain can be condensed into so few words. “I – wow. Suki…”

“I’m okay,” she assures him. “Uncle couldn’t adopt me, he and Zuko had just moved to the Earth Kingdom, and Zuko was still getting into a lot of trouble at school and it was just bad timing for that, all around, but Uncle made sure I got put into a good orphanage and sort of adopted me, unofficially. I’ve had birthdays and Thanksgiving and stuff with them ever since.”

She really is okay, he can tell by the way she talks. She’s not the same, no one ever is, but the wounds are now just scars, and he suddenly understands why Zuko and Uncle mean so much to her.

“I’m glad you had them,” he says. “Losing someone you love is hard, but if you’re alone…”

Suki just nods, and for a minute they don’t say anything. Sokka honestly isn’t sure what to say, mostly because what he wants doesn’t involve a lot of talking.

“Just so you know,” Suki says quietly, “When I said I’d be patient, I meant it. I’m not worth you rushing this, you pushing yourself to feel ready, I don’t – “

At this point, Sokka can’t stand it anymore, and he surges forward to kiss her.

He can tell it surprises her, but it takes barely a second before she’s curling her fingers around his neck and up into his hair, pulling him closer and sending every nerve in his body into overdrive.

She tastes like their dinner of chicken wings and ice cream, but he tugs her into his lap while she licks into his mouth and he doesn’t even try to repress the growl that sounds low and deep in his chest, when she slides her arms around his shoulders and presses their torsos together. She dusts kisses down his jaw and neck, her breath coming hot and heavy in his ear. He retaliates by biting lightly on the curve where her neck and shoulder meet, and the gasp that gets out of her is his new favorite sound _ever_.

He has no idea how long they sit there, lost in each other. One of his hands is up the back of her shirt, _his_ shirt is seconds from being tossed to the floor, when suddenly a throat clears. Loudly.

He looks over Suki’s shoulder and huffs.

“Dad. Do you mind?”

Hakoda arches one eyebrow. “It’s _my_ couch, son.” His voice is completely without heat, which is a sign that he’s amused, not irritated.

Suki stands up, tugging her shirt back into place and smoothing her hair, all while looking completely unembarrassed. Sokka almost pinches himself – how is this girl even _real?_

“Sorry, Hakoda. We didn’t hear you come in.”

His dad chuckles. “Obviously not. Between you two, and Zuko and Katara, I might start wearing a bell.”

Sokka lets himself fall backwards until he’s lying on the couch, too overwhelmed with how spectacular this evening has gone to form a witty reply.

Hakoda ends up leaving them in favor of watching some hockey game in his room, though he does warn them that Gran-Gran, Uncle and Aang went to the grocery store for the goodbye dinner tomorrow night and will be back in half an hour or so.

The moment the door closes behind his father, Sokka grins and turns to Suki, only to fall clumsily back against the couch when she tackles him, her arms back around his neck and her mouth once more on his, only this time it’s even better, because she’s smiling.

/

The next morning, Zuko goes outside to help Hakoda bring in some more firewood. They leave for Ba Sing Se first thing tomorrow morning, and Gran-Gran is pulling out all the stops for dinner tonight. The girls are out getting pedicures, Uncle is helping in the kitchen, and Sokka and Aang are waiting in the basement for a Dance Dance Revolution tournament.

But he really, really wants to talk to Hakoda.

It’s not like he’s worried, or anything. But it’s kind of like with Sokka – he wants the approval so much it’s almost stupid.

Hakoda doesn’t waste any time, and Zuko almost drops his armful of firewood when the older man turns to him and says, “You know, I haven’t seen Katara smile this much in years.”

He swallows, and wonders what to say _. You’re welcome_ sounds kinda full of it. _Really?_ sounds insecure.

“Cool.”

He barely resists the urge to slap himself in the face.

Hakoda just grins, and Zuko is suddenly struck with how much Sokka resembles his father. The subject of fathers sobers him instantly.

“I-I, uh. I’ve been meaning to tell you – “

It’s easier, this time. Hakoda doesn’t interrupt him, doesn’t ask how old Zuko was when his mother finally brought down Phoenix, doesn’t act horrified and sickened when told how his son’s girlfriend was burned alive or how Zuko got his scar. He doesn’t say anything, and when Zuko finally finishes, he just stands there helplessly, wishing he knew the older man well enough to know if that look on his face is angry, or worried, or _something_.

“Your Uncle told me the whole story your first day here.”

Zuko blinks.

“What?”

“He seemed to think that you’d finally work up the courage to do something about ‘ _your feelings for my daughter’_ while you were here – which, I guess I owe him twenty bucks, seeing as you didn’t bring her home until almost three in the morning…”

Why did Zuko think he needed a hat before he came outside? His ears are on fire, making the knit cap like a miniature furnace on his head.

Hakoda takes pity on him, and his voice turns serious. “Look, son…there isn’t a person in this world who doesn’t have regrets. Maybe you think your mistakes are worse than anyone else’s, but – “

“They are,” Zuko bites out. He’s had this conversation dozens of times with Uncle, Suki, himself. He’s tired of proving himself right every time.

“Really?” Hakoda raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Because if you ask me, you proved yourself to be a better man than your father when you were just thirteen.”

Zuko stares – there’s something in Hakoda’s voice, that wasn’t in Sokka’s.

“You were barely more than a child – surely even you can see that, now.” Hakoda sets his load of firewood on the pile just outside the kitchen door. “Children get to make mistakes.”

“I’m not a child anymore, though,” is all Zuko can manage. There’s a painful lump in his throat. It’s making his eyes water and his voice is wobbly and strangled. Hakoda either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

“You’re right. And now you’re standing here, expecting me to be furious with you for loving my daughter, when you saved her life the very first time you met her. You’re expecting me to hold the mistakes of your childhood against you, when your _childhood_ , Zuko,” Hakoda’s voice gets tight, and suddenly Zuko realizes that Hakoda is angry, but not at him. “Your childhood was ruined because you didn’t want someone else to die.”

Zuko stands there for a moment or two, wondering if he’s supposed to say thank you or something. Hakoda shakes his head.

“Son, even if I wanted to hate you, I couldn’t. You’re too good to hate.”

That…yep. That does it.

Zuko tries to turn away, tries to hide his tears, but once again, he’s shown just how much Sokka takes after his father, because the next thing he knows, he’s got Hakoda’s sturdy arms around him, holding him the exact same way he’s seen the older man hug Sokka and it’s too much, too much to realize that _this_ is what having a father is, and for the first time he doesn’t have to wonder and wish to have that for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will never ever ever EVER get over the lack of Hakoda/Zuko relationship in canon. LIke do you even realize how beautiful that could have been???


	12. 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, I'm alive.  
> yes, I'm continuing this story.  
> no, I don't remember what "free time" is

Suki sticks her tongue out the corner of her mouth, Katara sits perfectly still on the closed toilet lid, and Toph perches on the counter, munching on a cold burrito Sokka left in Suki’s fridge.

“One more left,” Suki mutters. Katara almost nods, but remembers the scolding she got last time she moved, and settles for a smile instead.

“Thanks for helping me, Suki. I can handle every day stuff, but this is so much fancier than Zuko described it. I almost panicked.”

Suki closes the clamp on the curling iron, and grins. “Zuko was raised going to black-tie events every other weekend. This probably feels like just one step above a beach party to him.”

Katara has a sudden picture of her boyfriend wearing socks and sandals and a lei, with a clunky camera around his neck and a white streak of sunscreen across his nose, and just about ruins the whole hairdo.

“Aaannnd….done!” Suki releases the last strand of hair with a flourish. Katara gets up, carefully holding her dress off the bathroom floor, and peers in the mirror above the sink.

“Wow,” she says, stunned.

“Yeah, you look amazing,” Toph says around a mouthful of tortilla.

“Aw, Toph, thanks – “ Katara pauses. “You’re mean.”

“Aang thinks I’m hilarious,” Toph answers triumphantly.

Just like that, Katara’s irritation evaporates. “He really missed you while we were gone, you know. I wish you could’ve come with us.”

“Thanks, but the snow and cold really mess up what senses I have left. Sounded like you guys had fun, though.”

“We did,” Suki confirms. “But we’ll have to have some parties up here for Zuko’s birthday in a couple of months.”

“Sounds cool to me.” Toph dusts off her hands, and hops down. “But for tonight, Aang’s taking me to the botanical gardens.”

“Really?” Katara’s always known Aang loves anything to do with nature. Toph, though, is a surprise.

“Yeah.” Toph smiles. “He describes all the flowers to me, and after hours the tour guides let the adults play in the giant sandbox and we have a sandcastle contest.”

She exits without another word, and right after they hear the front door close Suki proclaims, “Okay, _that_ is the cutest friggin’ thing I can even imagine.”

Katara has to agree, but her phone dings from Suki’s bedroom and she still has to put on her shoes and lip gloss.

She smiles when she sees it’s a text from Zuko.

_Remind me why I’m picking up you up at Suki’s again?_

**Because I can’t contour and Suki is like a wizard with a curling iron**

_???? I don’t know what that means but I’m in the elevator_

Suki, of course, is a natural with strappy heels, and gets Katara ready to go in record time. They’re blotting excess lip gloss when the knock sounds at the door.

“Stay here,” Suki orders, handing Katara her clutch. “I’ll answer the door and give him the speech about having you home by a certain time and then you can make a dramatic entrance like they do in the movies, and I’ll get a picture of his face when he sees you. It’ll be the next addition to Gran-Gran’s fridge.”

Katara doesn’t have time to argue; Suki is already gone with her startlingly well-laid plan, and Katara flicks at a few pieces of lint until her name is called from the living room.

All thoughts of Suki are banished when she walks through the door.

Zuko is a handsome guy. She’s been aware of this since that first day in the hospital. But there’s _nothing_ that could’ve prepared her for the sight of him in a tux.

Her dress doesn’t exactly have a lot of fabric, but it’s suddenly very, very warm and his _eyes_ and the way they’re looking at her –

“Ugh, forget it, that is _not_ a family-friendly picture,” Suki says, peering at her phone in disgust. “Here – “ She takes the bunch of flowers from Zuko, shoves them in Katara’s face. “He brought you ember poppies, Katara. Isn’t that nice? I’ll go put them in some water.” She pauses. “Please don’t defile my living room.”

She’s gone, and Katara wants to laugh but then she catches Zuko’s gaze again.

“Hi,” she says, suddenly nervous.

He doesn’t answer, just stares.

“What?” she asks.

He jolts. “N-uh. Nothing. We should go.”

Katara frowns a little, but calls goodbye to Suki and follows Zuko out the door. They make it to the elevator, and are less than halfway down when he suddenly jabs the red button. Officially confused, she turns but gasps – Zuko’s hands are on her sides, pushing her until she hits the wall, the handrail digging into her lower back.

“How long did it take you to put on your lipstick?”

She blinks. What?

“Uh – a couple minutes. It’s not hard.”

“Good,” is all he says before he leans down and kisses her so hard and long that Katara’s feet start to hurt from leaning back against the wall in her heels.

When he finally pulls up for air, she has to clutch his shoulders to stay upright.

“For the record,” she pants, “That would _so_ be worth redoing my makeup.”

His grin is blinding; maybe it’s just her, but Zuko has seemed happier than he’s ever been, since they got together. It’s only been six weeks, but…well, things are _great_. They’re both stubborn, opinionated, and have a tendency to go off on tangents about things that nobody else cares about.

But, as Suki likes to point out, they’re both a couple of dorks, and apparently mutual dorkiness is great for relationships. So far all they’ve had are minor arguments, and while Katara isn’t naïve enough to think that they won’t have their fair share of rocky times, she is optimistic enough to believe that this, what they have, will survive anything.

Zuko pulls away, hits the button again, and Katara smooths her dress and starts –

“Oh, where’s my clutch?”

For a second she’s worried that she left it at Suki’s apartment, but Zuko spots it on the floor, partially hiding behind her skirt.

“Here.” Ever the gentleman, Zuko stoops to get it for her, but on his way back up, his eyes catch on the thigh-high slit in her dress. He swallows audibly, and after a moment stands to his full height.

“Thank you,” Katara says delicately, taking her clutch with trembling hands. He eyes her with a mixture of amusement and irritation.

“Were you trying to give me a heart attack when you picked out this dress?”

“Suki picked it out, actually. She said you’d like me in red.”

“I love you in any color,” he responds immediately. “But I will admit to being…partial to this particular dress.”

Katara smiles, and turns to face the doors as they slide open.

“ _Finally_ – “ Sokka stutters to a halt, his eyes bugging out of his head. “Wow, sis. You look great. And you clean up nice too, Sparky.”

Zuko grimaces. “Sparky?”

“Don’t ask me, Toph started it. And do I even want to go in there, judging by how long the elevator took?”

“No more than I’ll want to go in Suki’s apartment after tonight, if I’m right on what’s in that bag you’re holding.” Zuko gives him a look.

Sokka slyly moved the plastic sac behind him. “Fair enough. You kiddos have fun. Be sure to document anything embarrassing for posterity.”

“Thanks, Sokka,” Katara says, thrilled that her brother and boyfriend are actual, real-life bros. It’s cute.

Once they’re safely in the cab and headed to the swanky hotel, Katara admits, “I was worried, about this dress.”

He gives her an incredulous look. “Why?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know; I bought it before we got together and I guess…I was worried that you would think it was too much.”

“Katara – “

“But,” she hurries on, “you look at me the same way when I’m dressed nice, and when I’m wearing scrubs that are covered in vomit, and when I’m wearing sweats and a t-shirt. So I stopped worrying a couple weeks ago.”

His smile this time is slow, warm, and he pulls her close to press a chaste, gentle kiss on the side of her neck.

Nope, she decides. Nothing to worry about at all.

/

Zuko isn’t a chauvinist. There’s no way he could be, considering who his best friend is. But there is something about having Katara on his arm that makes him stand a little straighter, smile a little more, walk more assuredly. It takes him the better part of the evening to figure it out, after the dinner and right before the awards are presented. Katara slips away to the restroom, and he catches more than one approving glance thrown his way.

He’s honest enough to admit that his girlfriend is drop-dead gorgeous. Smooth brown skin, bright blue eyes, long dark hair, and a figure that makes his heart pound in that dress…

But it’s not really about her looks.

No, he decides, it’s not that at all. As much as he enjoys Katara’s beauty, her standing with him, standing together as a couple lessens the burden off his shoulders, burdens he’s always thought he doesn’t deserve to be rid of. Shouldn’t he carry around the guilt? Wouldn’t that be fair compensation for all the damage and hurt he’s caused?

But with a woman like Katara…it’s as though the rest of the world suddenly sees him like she does, and that includes himself. Suddenly he’s wondering if maybe he deserves a shot at the lifetime of happiness that his family has robbed so many people of.

He knows that’s part of the reason Uncle and Suki like Katara so much – they’ve spent years trying to purge the self-hate from his blood, but no one has ever come as close as Katara to ridding him of it completely. Uncle seems to be in a perpetual state of I- _told-_ you-you’re-a-good-person lately, and for the first time Zuko thinks he might believe him one day.

He’s still lost in thought when Katara slips back into her seat; he takes her hand as the announcer gets up to present the awards.

There are a few others ahead of him. One guy from another station in the Lower Ring is retiring, and there are about twenty rookies overall. Finally, they get to the Medal of Valor – there’s only one of those every year, and it’s always saved for last. It’s kind of the main event.

Zuko wishes they could’ve just put it on the department’s facebook page or something.

Chief Jee clears his throat, his eyes catching Zuko’s across the room. Zuko can tell the older man wants to laugh at his discomfort and give him one of those back-thumping hugs at the same time. He grins.

“This year, we’ve awarded the Valor Medal to one of our youngest but most noteworthy lieutenants. His commitment to never leaving anyone behind has set him apart among his peers. Earlier in the fall, he very nearly lost his life while rescuing a student in the fire on the Ba Sing Se University campus, and has since returned to work with even more vigor and dedication. Please welcome Lt. Zuko Wakahisa.”

Katara squeezes his hand before she joins in the thunderous applause. He tries to avoid making eye contact with anyone as he makes his way towards the stage; there are a swarm of camera flashes as he settles behind the podium, clenching the glass trophy Jee handed him. His sweaty palms are leaving smudges.

“Uh.” He clears his throat loudly. “I…well, thanks, Chief. I guess it goes without saying that I’m only the firefighter I am because of what I’ve learned here, both with you and my uncle previously as chief. In the six months I was out of work, I learned that the people in our lives often shape who we are – both in our work and away from it. Thankfully, I’m fortunate to have some great people in my life who help me be a better version of myself.” He sees Katara smile, and meets it with a small one of his own. “So this award’s really thanks to them. Thank you.”

It’s probably the shortest acceptance speech in the world, but the applause is deafening; Jee does indeed pull him in for one of those painful hugs, and when he gets back to his seat Katara kisses him on the cheek.

At long last, it’s over. All that’s left now is dessert and dancing, and Zuko can relax for those. He leans back in his chair, only to spot Jee coming toward them.

“Brace yourself,” he murmurs to Katara before he stands up.

“Zuko, you had me in tears back there,” Jee teases.

“You’re just getting soft with your old age.”

Jee laughs, but turns to Katara.

“Chief Jee Nguyen.”

“I’m Katara Makivik. I’m Zuko’s girlfriend.”

“Well,” Jee says, his eyebrows raised, “I guess all you needed was a few months off to meet someone, eh?”

“Actually,” Zuko grins, hooks his arm around Katara’s shoulders. “We met the day of the fire. I had her slung over my shoulder when I went down.”

Jee stares. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope,” Katara says cheerfully. “I took him brownies in the hospital and he was a total jerk, too. We ran into each other again by chance a few weeks later and it went _much_ better that time around.”

By now Jee is almost in hysterics. “What story to tell your kids,” he gasps. “But don’t tell any of the guys that, they’ll be running into burning buildings looking for single women to carry out.”

Zuko chuckles, but the band strikes up and Katara’s attention is immediately diverted. He turns to make their excuses, but Jee has noticed too, and waves them on good-naturedly.

Next thing he knows, he’s got Katara in his arms, swaying on the dance floor.

“This is fun,” she enthuses. “I don’t know why Suki hates it.”

“Probably because every year she came with me, people would always ask if we were dating. And when we said no, there was no shortage of admiring hopefuls.”

“Well, not that they had any right, but Suki _is_ pretty amazing.”

“She is,” Zuko has to agree. “But her brownies are terrible.”

Katara laughs, twirls under his arm. They’re getting slews of appreciative looks, but they might as well be in a different time zone. Zuko is completely immersed in this moment, with the woman he loves more than he ever thought possible and the way she folds herself into his embrace, and –

“Katara?”

They halt mid-spin; Zuko freezes at the look on Katara’s face when she turns to the speaker.

“ _Jet?_ ”

He’s not even thinking of looking away from her, until he hears that name.

Then his head jerks up, and his jaw swings open.

“What are you doing here?” Katara is stunned.

“A few officers from the Middle Ring precinct were invited.” Jet fiddles with his coat lapel, gives Zuko an unreadable look. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Zuko is personally surprised that his voice is working at all.

“Wait, you two – “ Katara looks back and forth between them. “You two _know_ each other?”

“Sort of,” Jet mumbles.

“Unfortunately, yeah.” Zuko suddenly turns back to Katara. “How do _you_ know him?”

“He…” Katara hesitates. “He’s my ex.”

If she had informed him that Uncle and Gran-Gran were going to be married, he couldn’t possibly have been more surprised.

“What?”

“Zuko, I – “

“Anyway, nice seeing you Katara.” Jet nods to them both, and walks away like he didn’t just turn Zuko’s whole world upside down.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Katara grabs Zuko’s arm and marches over to their table, snatches up her purse, and ushers him outside. They make it to the coatroom before she explodes.

“Okay, I don’t think I need to tell you that you were _way_ out of line back there.”

“I didn’t say anything.” He crosses his arms over his chest, stares her down.

If Suki were here she’d punch him for acting like such a five year old.

“You didn’t _have_ to, Zuko. That look on your face – I’m sorry if the idea of me dating somebody before you makes me suddenly repulsive, but the fact is that – “

Her words hit Zuko in the gut, and that’s when he realizes she looks very close to tears.

“Whoa, okay, hold on.” He risks putting his hands on her upper arms. To his relief, she doesn’t pull away. “That’s not it, at all. I’m sorry.”

“I was eighteen when I met him,” she sniffs. “And I had just moved up here away from home and I was lonely and scared and sad a lot, and I didn’t realize what he was like until a few months into it. I eventually had to admit I deserved better.”

Her words just make the dread in his gut turn heavy and solid, weighing him down.

“I understand, Katara.” And he does. He _understands,_ being so invested in a relationship that when you suddenly look up and realize you have to get out, there’s no way to do it without losing part of yourself in the process.

“Then why were you upset with me?”

“I wasn’t.” It’s not a lie, but he is upset. Just with himself, for getting his hopes up. “Are you ready to go home?”

She looks at him in confusion, but he turns to get their coats before she can answer. Wordlessly, she lets him drape her coat over her shoulders and walks ahead meekly when he holds the door open.

The taxi ride is silent, tense, and awkward. Zuko is thoroughly miserable, but he has no idea what to say or how to say it or if he even should say it, so he gives her a tight smile when the cab drops her off at her apartment building.

“Zuko, I – “

“I’ll text you tomorrow?” His voice is false, overly pleasant and it doesn’t fool her a second. She bites her lip, looking sad and scared and _Agni_ , he absolutely hates himself right now.

“Okay. Goodnight.”

He doesn’t answer.

/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I went back and forth about the Zutara angst but c'mon, two people like them ain't gonna be all sunshine and rainbows ALL the time. Let's be real.


	13. 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> three things:  
> -Sokka's emotional maturity can be 80% credited to Suki  
> -we haven't seen the last of Jet  
> -this got so long I had to cut it off sooner than I planned so the next one will (read: hopefully) be up soon

Suki sighs gently when he runs his fingers through her hair. It’s almost like a cat, only better because sometimes she returns the favor, and his messy hair is always ridiculous enough to make her laugh, and Sokka really _really_ loves her laugh.

They’d started out watching another Say Yes To the Dress marathon, but about halfway through he got distracted with the straps on her tank top, and somehow in the middle of it all, they’d rolled on top of the remote so now a documentary about the Edison lightbulb is playing. He’s still distracted too much to really care.

His phone dings across the room.

“That’s Katara’s ringtone,” Suki says softly. She tilts her head so he has better access to her throat.

“She’s fine.”

How is her skin so soft?

Another ding, followed by a rapid succession of identical sounds, make him lift his head. He frowns.

“Maybe it’s just a bunch of pictures? Zuko probably had to give a speech or something. I bet it was hilarious.”

Suki smiles. “You’d better go check, though. She knows you’re over here and I doubt she’d bother you if it wasn’t important.”

He’s equally worried and irritated, but he nods and crosses the room. The irritation melts away when he sees the ten or so texts.

**hey where do you keep your spare key again? left mine at home**

**nvm found it**

**anyway I hope your phone is off**

**but the ball was a disaster and zuko dropped me off at my place**

**but I don’t really wanna be alone**

**pls don’t leave suki alone tonight just for me I’m fine promise**

**but maybe in the morning you could come over? could really use someone to talk to**

There are more, but he doesn’t take the time to finish reading them. He turns to find Suki looking at her phone with equal concern.

“Is that Zuko?”

“No, it’s Uncle. He says Zuko just showed up at his place, though.” She frowns. “I don’t understand.”

He shows her Katara’s messages. “I hate to say this, but…”

“You handle Katara. I’ll go help with Zuko.” Suki nods, but she looks as disappointed as Sokka feels. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He kisses her. “When we get whatever this is fixed, we’ll make them both feel really guilty about it and they can send us to a hotel in the Upper Ring for a whole weekend or something.”

She smiles, and reaches up to kiss him again. “I like the way you think.”

/

He tried going back to his condo. But Katara left a set of scrubs there for in the morning when she has an early shift for clinicals, and just that small reminder of her is enough to make his head pound. He takes the time to change out of his tux, into a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt, and hops on his bike, to the one place he knows he can be honest about this.

His uncle is still up, doing the crossword while watching Food Network. He looks surprised when Zuko lets himself in.

“Why, nephew. I did not expect to see you tonight. Did you and Miss Katara enjoy the ball?”

Zuko wastes no time on ceremony. He plops down on the couch, leans over his knees. “Do you remember Jet? From the Lower Ring?”

“Jet?” Uncle echoes. “The young man with the switchblade and misplaced sense of heroism?”

“Turns out, Katara used to date him.”

Uncle blinks in surprise. “Well, what a small world – “

“She dumped him, of course. Why would a girl like her be with someone like him?”

Zuko is pacing; he doesn’t remember getting up from the couch, but he’s pacing and Uncle has already laid aside his crossword and hit the mute button, and is watching him in concern.

“She said she realized she deserved better. And she does. Of _course_ she deserves better. She’d be a lunatic to go with someone like Jet now. But – “

He can’t get the next words past his throat. Uncle eyes him carefully, before sighing and coming to stand beside him.

“My nephew, agonizing yourself over the past will not change it.”

Zuko already knows that. But his voice still isn’t working, so he nods.

“It sounds as though Miss Katara has decided what she deserves. Do you trust her judgment?”

Of course he does. Katara’s mature, responsible. She’s got a good head on her shoulders.

But even the most responsible people can be wrong, can’t they? They can be misled, deceived.

Zuko shakes his head, not in answer to Uncle’s question, but in response to his own thoughts. Uncle lays one hand on his shoulder.

“Zuko, you must not assume you are not good enough for her. That is her decision to make.”

“But she doesn’t really know me.”

“Have you not told her of your family? Your mother’s situation? Your involvement, limited as it was, with the Northern Water Tribe ambassador?”

Of course he’s told her. He wasn’t going to tell her dad and brother to make sure they were okay with him and not tell her. She reacted exactly the way he expected – lots of tears and a hug that lasted for ten solid minutes.

It feels like the guilt is rising up his throat using claws. He shakes his head again.

“But what if…I haven’t shown her, haven’t taken her – “

Uncle understands. He leans back a little in surprise, but recovers quickly. “Do you want to? That is what is most important, nephew. You are not obligated to reveal all parts of your past to her at once. She knows that.”

“But I think…” he swallows. He has never, ever been this scared in his life. “I think maybe she’d understand, what I really used to be, if I took her there.”

Uncle eyes him carefully. “If you are sure that is what you want, Zuko, then I see no reason to counsel you otherwise.”

Zuko doesn’t get a chance to reply; just then the front door slams open and the next thing he knows, Suki has plopped herself on the couch. He stares.

“Suki – your date, Sokka, he – “

“ – is checking on Katara,” Suki finishes. She kicks off her shoes and folds her legs underneath her, a sure sign that she’s planning to stay for a while. Then she turns her blue eyes on him. “What happened?”

Agni, he loves her for that – for not assuming he’s the victim, for not barging in and demanding to know what Katara did to screw this up. She knows him, and is practical enough to know that it could very well have been either one of them. And she’s still here – to set him straight or comfort him. He feels like maybe he needs both.

“It was me,” he says heavily. She nods.

“I was afraid so.” She looks sad, not angry, and he’s confused until she says, “Zuko, Katara knows about the things you’ve done. I don’t understand why you’re still so afraid she’ll suddenly decide you’re not good enough for her.”

Maybe he shouldn’t be this shocked that his best friend read him like a book. But he is. Suki gives him a sad smile.

“You’ve got a crapton of guilty baggage, and you’ve been letting it hold you back for a long time.”

He doesn’t know what to say.

“Is Sokka’s forgiveness not enough for you?”

“It means everything to me.” His voice is raspy, his eyes are stinging, and Suki gets down on her knees in front of him, takes his face between her hands.

“Zuko, this inner peace you’re looking for isn’t going to fall into your lap. You’re going to have to _choose_ to forgive yourself.”

“I don’t know how.”

“You start each morning. Tell yourself that you’re a good person, and remind yourself as often as necessary.”

He almost wants to laugh – it sounds like a remedy for the common cold. But he suddenly remembers –

“Is that what you did? After…?”

“Yeah.” Suki’s voice is quiet. “I can’t promise you that there won’t be bad days. But if you try, and if you let yourself believe it, then I can promise there will be good days, too.”

“I’ll try.” He barely manages to shove the words past his throat, but Suki pulls him in close and he just holds on.

/

When he opens his apartment door and is immediately assaulted by the scent of lemon Pine-Sol, he knows it’s bad.

“Sis?” He frowns, hears sounds in his bathroom, and heads around the corner….and promptly stops in his tracks.

“What – “

“Oh good, you’re home.” Katara nimbly jumps off the counter. “Do you have more magic eraser? There’s a weird spot on the wall in your closet. And when did you last go grocery shopping? There are three moldy slices of bread in your fridge, and a can of those Vienna sausages but honestly I’m afraid of those, maybe Aang’s just getting my head about canned meat, I don’t know – “

She’s still babbling when Sokka takes the cleaning rag out of her hands. She doesn’t notice when he peels off her thick rubber gloves. She remarks about the thin layer of dust on his baseboards as he steers her towards the couch.

Only when she sits down, does she seem to wake up a little. She frowns. “You were supposed to have a night in with Suki. I didn’t want you to ditch her.”

“She’s fine.” He sucks at making tea, so instead he brings her hot cocoa made from a packaged mix that Aang thinks tastes like sawdust. He makes sure to give her his favorite mug that she’s always stealing, and when he wraps his old wolf-skin blanket around her bare legs, she grows quiet. Her hair is still in its fancy up-do, her makeup still intact from Suki’s efforts. Coupled with her shorts and stained t-shirt, it’s an odd, yet heart-wrenching sight.

He sips, waits. Katara will share when she feels like it. He and their dad didn’t know about her guilt feelings over their mom’s death until eight years after the fact.

The silence is pretty resilient, though, so he decides to get the ball rolling. “I was thinking about asking Gran-Gran whether or not she thinks sea prunes would survive express shipping. I’ve really been craving some lately, and it’s just gonna get worse once finals week hits.”

“I’ll make you some,” comes the quiet answer. He’s relieved that at least the overly bright, chipper tone is gone. Not that he _likes_ that note of sadness in his baby sister’s voice, but. They have to start somewhere.

He’s trying to think of another random topic when she decides she’s done waiting.

“I don’t understand.”

He sets his mug down. This is Katara’s I-want-to-be-upset-but-first-I-need-you-to-tell-me-I’m-right-to-be voice. It requires his full attention.

“We ran into Jet at the ball.” She thumbs the chip on the rim of her mug. “He’s a cop now. He saw us dancing and came over to say hello.”

Sokka’s pulse started racing at the mention of the scumbag who broke his sister’s heart, but he manages to keep his own voice calm. “Did he try to start anything?”

“No,” Katara shakes her head. “No, he was civil. But Zuko knows him. I don’t know how, but I got the strong impression they aren’t friends.”

She swallows, but Sokka doesn’t move – they’re not far from the point when he needs to go get the box of tissues. But not just yet.

“I told Zuko I used to date Jet. It was, what, two years ago? I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“But Zuko did?” He phrases it as a question on purpose – this is all sounding very, very out of character for Zuko.

“Apparently. You should have seen the way he _looked_ at me – “ Katara’s voice cracks, her lip starts to tremble, and Sokka takes a moment to push away the older-brother instinct to hit whoever or whatever put that look on her face. He’s willing to bet a batch of his favorite jerky that Zuko’s not in much better shape right now, and that there’s a bit more to this story.

“What did you tell him?”

“That I dumped Jet when I woke up and realized I deserved better.”

_Bingo._

Sokka collects his thoughts while he gets the tissues; he tries to figure out the best way to word this while Katara cries on his shoulder. He sighs.

Once the tears have subsided and Katara’s face is much less snotty, he clears his throat.

“Sis, did…did Zuko say that his problem was with you having dated other people?”

“No,” she admits. “He said that wasn’t it, actually. But the way he was acting…what else could it be?”

Sokka rolls his eyes where she can’t see. _His stupid conscience refusing to let him be happy, that’s what._

Boy, does he hope Suki is knocking some sense into the idiot’s head right now.

“Okay.” He rubs his palms on his thighs. “Katara, do you know why I was so supportive when you guys got together?”

She hiccups, shakes her head.

“Because Zuko looks at you the way Dad used to look at Mom.”

Fresh tears well up in her eyes, but he keeps going.

“Zuko loves you, Tara. He’s not going to get upset when you share your past with him.”

“Well, then, what’s this about?” Katara usually gets a little snappy when their mother is mentioned, particularly when she’s already emotional, but he doesn’t back down this time.

“Do you really think Zuko’s told us everything? About _his_ past?”

Katara blinks, surprised. “I – “

“I’m not saying he’s in the wrong if he’s kept things from us. I’m just saying that maybe he’s working to trust us with that stuff, because we both know he’s not proud of it. It’s…it’s a really big deal for him.” He tries not to think about the way Zuko sobbed onto his shoulder after telling him how Yue died. “You know, Suki told me the other day that the reason _she’s_ so supportive of you guys is because you’re good for Zuko. You help him believe that he’s not that person anymore.”

“I don’t – “ Katara tries, but goes silent when he gives her a look.

“That doesn’t mean that Zuko can just drop the guilt and never worry about it again. It takes time, and some parts of him will never be able to let go of it. And I hate that for him, but you make it better, easier.”

“Then why is he upset with me?”

He smiles sadly, puts one hand on her hair and smooths a few wayward strands from her face.

“Because he’s scared that one day, when he finally tells you everything, you’ll wake up and think that you deserve better.”

Sokka watches the denial, confusion, realization, and anger roll across his sister’s face within seconds. Then she stands up, plunks her mug down on the stack of plastic crates that serve as a coffee table.

“Well, then, when he’s ready to _believe_ me when I say I love him, he knows where to find me.” She storms around the apartment, gathering her things and looking like a banshee on a warpath.

“Katara,” he says, alarmed. This is not how he imagined her reacting. “Being angry isn’t – “

“ _No_.” She rounds on him, one arm shoved into her coat. “No. I understand his past is difficult, I understand he needs reassurance that I love him and see the good in him. What I don’t understand is why he felt he needed to hurt me because he was scared.”

Sokka doesn’t have a good answer for that, because, yeah Zuko bud, you screwed up there a little bit.

Still –

“Sis, I don’t think he meant to hurt you.”

“I know he didn’t.” Katara’s voice is suddenly much quieter. “But he’s going to have choose to believe me, not this back-and-forth every time his conscience flares up.”

He studies her as she stands by the door, one hand on the doorknob, straight back and set jaw, tear-filled eyes and a heart so big he can tell it’s about to burst from what she feels for Zuko. He’s proud. Their mom would be, too. But he doesn’t say that. Instead he nods. “Okay. Call me if you need anything else?”

“I always do,” she smiles, crosses back over to him. He grins when she kisses his forehead. “Thanks, Sokka. Love you.”

“Love you too, baby sis. Go beat that jerk up for breaking his own heart.”

/

Katara goes home, takes a long hot shower, and goes to bed. Then she gets up in the morning and texts Zuko.

**Can we talk?**

He responds almost immediately.

_Yeah. Meet me in an hour._

It’s followed by an address, which confuses her and almost makes her a little angry again, but then he sends one more:

_Please._

She gets out of the cab an hour later, sees him standing on the sidewalk looking up at the building. She reads the sign and wants to ask what in Koh’s name they’re doing here, but then he turns to face her and every thought leaves her head when she sees the look in his eyes.

 _Oh Zuko,_ she thinks _. Why do you keep hurting yourself like this?_

“I’m sorry.” Zuko doesn’t waste time when it comes to apologies. She learned that much early on in their friendship. He looks like he wants to take her hand but is afraid she’ll pull away. She waits. “I…Agni, Katara. I never meant to make you feel like I didn’t want you anymore.”

“Then how did you mean to make me feel?” She manages to keep the residual anger – not that there’s much left – out of her voice, but not the hurt.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I was too terrified to think about that.”

Sokka hit the nail on the head with this one. She should make him a double batch of those sea-prunes.

“Look, I know I owe you answers, and a lot more than just an apology. But I need to show you something first.”

She’s baffled, but she lets him take her hand finally and follows him up the steps.

Inside is quiet, muffled rooms in soft colors. An old man is playing solitaire on a table by the windows, whistling to himself. A reception desk sits against one wall, and Zuko leads her over and scribbles his name into a binder sitting on the counter.

“Zuko – “

He gently shushes her. “C’mon.”

They walk down the hall to the elevators, step to the side so a group of people in wheelchairs, of varying ages and physical conditions, can get off. Zuko punches the button for the basement, and stands with both of his hands clenched in the pockets of his leather jacket.

When it finally dings, they’re greeted by a dark, cinderblock hallway. The tile floors have scratches and weird stains, the cheap lights keep flickering. It honestly looks like something straight out of a horror movie, but Zuko has obviously been here before – he sidesteps old hospital beds, broken wheelchairs and bent IV poles.

At the very end of the hall, a police officer stands outside a door. He gives them both a pleasant yet weary smile, and punches a code into the key pad so the deadbolt can click open.

Zuko takes her hand again. His is shaking.

When they get inside, Katara’s not sure what she’s supposed to be looking at. Then –

“Zuzu!”

He squeezes her hand once before leading her over to the far corner, to sit on the couch opposite the girl in the armchair. She’s brushing her doll’s hair with her fingers. Katara tries not to stare at the red, irritated skin around her wrists.

“Hi, Azula.” Zuko’s body is oozing tension from every pore, but Katara has no idea what to do to calm him.

“You’ve brought me a _present_.” Azula suddenly spots Katara, her gold eyes – darker than Zuko’s – light up, and Katara feels the hairs on her arms stand up.

“A guest, Azula.” Zuko’s hand tightens its grip. “I brought you a _guest_. People aren’t presents, remember?”

“You sound like Mother,” is all Azula has to say to that before she turns back to Katara. “Oooh, and she’s Water Tribe. She’s pretty anyway, though. I can see why you like her.”

Something tells Katara that the insult isn’t really her biggest concern here. She decides to keep her mouth shut and let Zuko do the talking.

Azula notices, and pouts. “She’s not very friendly, brother dear. Though I suppose angry and sullen is your type.”

“I like your doll,” Katara tries, because that last sentence made Zuko look like he’d been clubbed over the head.

“Thank you,” Azula responds primly. She smooths the doll’s dress, arranges it to sit up on her lap. “She’s the only friend I have anymore.”

“That’s nice,” Katara encourages, but Zuko squeezes her hand in warning.

“Nice?” Azula echoes. “Yes, I suppose it’s nice that my real friends abandoned me. That my mother threw me to the wolves but made sure her precious Zuzu was safe. That my father tried to make a deal with the defense attorney that would give me the bigger prison sentence. Yes, how _nice_.”

Somewhere along the way, her voice went from dreamy to pure acid, leaving angry welts along Zuko’s skin and an expression in his eyes that makes Katara’s chest hurt.

“Azula,” he takes a deep breath. “Mom didn’t want you to go to prison. That’s why you’re here – she made a deal. So you can get better, remember?”

Azula hisses, stands up. Zuko copies her, pulling Katara up to stand behind him.

“ _Better_ ,” Azula mocks. Katara can feel the anger rolling off her in waves, even on this side of Zuko. “I wasn’t supposed to be sent away to get better. I was supposed to come to Ba Sing Se to run things for Father, to prove to him that I was better than _you_.”

Zuko sidesteps, backs towards the door without letting Katara in Azula’s line of sight.

“Oh, I suppose you’re going to leave me too?” she rages. “Tell me, Zuko, do you love her more than you fear me?”

Katara can tell from the way his whole body goes rigid that those words mean something to him. She hears him swallow.

“Yes,” he rasps. “I do.”

The door shuts behind them on Azula’s anger, and this time Katara leads the way, down the hall and up the elevator and out the front lobby until they’re back where they started, on the sidewalk in the cold winter sun.

For several long minutes, she stands there and looks at him. He’s angry and sad and scared and worried and it breaks her heart – he loves his sister every bit as much as Sokka loves her. She thinks that Suki is probably always going to be the best thing that’s ever happened to Zuko.

“She was my father’s pride and joy,” he says softly. “I was never enough – not cruel enough, not bloodthirsty or ruthless enough. But she…she’s so much like him. And she could’ve been completely different, but I stood by and let him turn her into…into _that_ ,” he gestures wearily at the building, “and by the time I worked up the courage to do anything to help her, it was too late.”

Katara bites back her tears, remembers that day when her car broke down and Chen mockingly asked Zuko how his sister was doing. She has a sudden urge to find Chen’s car and slash all the tires.

“Do you understand?” he turns to her, and her hands immediately cradle his face, brushing away the lone tear.

“Yes, Zuko.” Any pieces of anger have long since melted away – but she’s still disappointed. “I understand you wish you’d been a better brother, but this…what she’s become…it’s not your fault.”

“But I could have done someth – “

“Yes,” she nods. “Maybe you could have. But so could have your mother, or your uncle, or a school teacher or anyone. You’re already trying to suffocate yourself with your own mistakes. Don’t pile hers and your father’s on top of it.”

He shakes his head a little. “I know,” he’s holding her hips, flexes his fingers. “But in some ways I was no better than they were.”

She can hear the self-loathing in his voice again, and debates whether or not tough love is in order here. She decides on a happy medium.

“Zuko, I don’t know what else to tell you to make you believe me.” She takes his hands.  His fingers instantly curl around hers, holding on tight. “I love you. That means I accept the mistakes you’ve made, and the lessons you’ve learned from them. That’s what loving _anyone_ means. I’m not making some crazy new rule for you. It’s just love. That’s all.”

He nods, bites his lip. “I can’t stand Jet,” he blurts. Katara giggles a little in spite of the somber conversation, and it makes him grin. “But…he’s still made less…well. Less monstrous mistakes than me. I guess I just thought if you knew you deserved better than him…”

She smiles, brushes his hair off his forehead. “Zuko, if I held out for someone better than you, I’d be alone for the rest of my life.”

Something between a laugh and sob wrenches its way out of his throat, and he pulls her close, smushing her face into his chest and hugging her so tightly he lifts her off her feet.

Happy as she is, she’s not done. “Hey,” she begins sternly, leaning back to look at him. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, loving how solid he feels, supporting her weight like it’s nothing. “I don’t…I know it’ll be harder some times than others. That’s okay. I’ll always be there to remind you that I love you. But _you’ve_ got to believe me. Okay?”

Zuko’s grin is full-blown by now, dimples and all. He presses his forehead to hers. “Deal.”

/

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me if I did Azula okay I am really nervous about doing mentally ill people in my stories because I'm terrified I'll do it all wrong and really hurt somebody so if I did a passable job please let me know pretty please with puppy kisses and everything


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter came out like a kidney stone – slowly and painfully, that is – but at least it’s out. I do apologize for the outrageous delay, and you can see a full blathering explanation on my tumblr. Rest assured this story has regained some traction and updates will be back to normal in the future.

Look, it’s not like Katara _hates_ the ER, okay?

It’s just that she’d rather get a tooth pulled than work there, especially on weekends. But every med student at BSSU has to take a turn in every rotation, so. Fair’s fair, and all that.

At the moment, it is her private opinion that _fair_ absolutely sucks.

She sighs, and looks over the chart one of the many harried nurses shoved at her. There was a shooting in the Upper Ring, and the hospitals there are flooded with victims (it seems to have been an incident between rival gangs). The few police officers who were injured on duty are being sent here to the Middle Ring.

Her new patient is at the far end of the hall; she pauses long enough to give her clinical instructor a copy of her patient’s EMR and knocks on the door.

“Hello, Detective Liu, I’m Katara, I’ll be – Jet?”

He looks up, startled. “Uh. Hi?”

Katara glances between him and the tall, thin woman on the bed, bloodied bandage pressed to her upper arm. “I….”

“She’s my partner,” Jet explains, shuffling his feet beneath the grungy plastic chair. “The bullet just grazed her, and the paramedics told us she’ll just need some stitches, but I think she’s acting really weird, maybe she’s lost a lot of blood?”

Katara blinks, and she’s almost embarrassed over how much the genuine concern in his voice surprises her.

He was never heartless. Just angry.

She clears her throat. “Well, the fact that she’s still pretty coherent is a good sign, but –“

“ _She_ is right here,” the woman interjects in a bored voice. “And I keep telling my idiot partner that it’s superficial, and they told me it didn’t even nick any major blood vessels.”

Katara smiles when Jet scoffs, mutters under his breath about letting an _actual doctor_ do the checking.

“It looks like it’s stopped bleeding for the most part,” she agrees, grabbing some hand sanitizer and gloves. The bandage isn’t thoroughly saturated, which is a good thing, and the wound is a straight line, already washed by the paramedics.

“It doesn’t look too concerning,” Katara says, prepping her suturing needle. “You’ll just need to be careful how much you lift with it over the next few weeks. I’ll get some pain meds for you to take, though I gotta admit you don’t seem like the type who would take them.”

“I won’t,” the detective agrees, monotone. “But thanks. I guess.”

Once the stitches are in place, Katara dumps everything into the trash and sharps container, and moves to wash her hands.

“So how long have you two been partners?”

Jet shrugs. “Couple years. I went to Middle Ring Community College, earned my degree in criminal justice and got into the academy not long after graduation.”

“Really?” Katara is pleased, because the timing means he started working his way out of the hole he’d dug for himself pretty much immediately after –

“Sorry, but how do you two know each other?” Jet’s partner squints at them.

“Oh.” Katara clears her throat, focuses on scrubbing under her fingernails. “We…uh, we used to date. A long time ago.”

“It was a couple years ago,” Jet corrects, with that stupid grin of his.

Katara glares at him. “A _really_ long time ago. Ancient history.”

Jet laughs, but right then his phone rings, and his laugh changes immediately to a wince. “It’s Chief.” He shakes his head. “I better take this out in the hall. He always thinks it’s my fault when things go south on our cases.”

Detective Liu smirks. “It usually is, numbskull.”

“ _Still_ ,” Jet whines, before hitting answer and ducking out the door. It shuts behind him, and Katara suddenly realizes that there’s no handbook for this – how to make small talk with your ex’s…work partner? Friend? Something?

“So has he always been this much of a drama queen?” The detective suddenly asks.

Katara smiles. “He’s a lot better than he used to be, actually. The Jet I knew would have left you here in the waiting room while he hunted down the guy who pulled the trigger.”

“Really.” The thin mouth purses in thought. “I…I guess that surprises me.”

Katara raises her brows in question. Liu shrugs.

“Jet’s really impressed our superiors with his ability to keep a cool head. And he’s great at talking people down from vengeance killings, if we get there in time.”

She’s a little horrified to feel a lump in her throat, but…

“That…that’s good.” Katara clears her throat. “He, um. He used to be really angry, all of the time.”

“At you?”

“At the world. He’s had a rough life, and he let it make him bitter and did some stupid things. I tried to help him, but…he was too far in. I had to let him go.”

Liu nods slowly. “Sounds like it was hard. But you obviously made the smart choice – he’s doing great now. There aren’t many other cops out there I’d trust to have my back besides him.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Katara tells her, smiles at the way Liu shifts uncomfortably. “And don’t worry – I won’t tell him you said that. Wouldn’t want him getting a big head.”

“A bigg _er_ head, you mean,” Liu scoffs, but allows a tiny smile to show.

Jet comes back in just in time to see the cozy little scene; he grins at them both.

“Ain’t that sweet,” he drawls. “I’m glad, Mai doesn’t have anybody to do girl talk with, having me as her partner.”

“We were talking about _you_ , twit,” Katara rolls her eyes.

“Really?” Jet looks surprised. “I’d thought you’d talk about Zuko instead.”

“How does she know Zuko?” Katara and Mai ask at the exact same time.

Jet stares at them both, a smile of absolute glee stretching across his face. “No way – he didn’t tell you?”

“Tell me _what?_ ” Katara demands.

“I haven’t spoken to him since he got hurt, idiot.” Mai glares at him. “What are you talking about?”

“I can’t believe this,” Jet mutters to himself. “Well, actually I can, since he’s got the social skills of a three year old – “

“Jet – “ Mai snaps.

“All right, don’t get your panties in a twist.” Jet gestures between them. “Zuko’s ex-girlfriend, meet…Zuko’s current girlfriend.”

/

Zuko loves his job – but there are days, especially when it’s been a slow night and the twenty-four hour shift crawls by, when he wishes he could leave early. Of course he doesn’t, but the exhaustion that hits him when he starts his bike makes him almost want to go straight home.

He’s not skipped visiting his sister once since he had her admitted, though, so he takes a bag of her favorite flavor of Doritos – Cool Ranch – and doesn’t stay longer than ten minutes, anyway, because he can tell it’s a bad day and his presence only exacerbates things for her.

So he goes home, though it takes him forever since there’s construction for several blocks out from the health care facility and he tries to be understanding, really, but when he sees it’s just for some hipster-organic-produce store, he cusses out the inside of his motorcycle helmet (loud enough for one of the construction workers to hear him, he thinks).

He finally makes it to his apartment, though, and crashes on the couch for the remaining four hours of Katara’s clinical shift. She texts him when she’s headed home, and that she’s stopping by the store to get groceries.

When he arrives, she’s in the shower; he shouts hello so she won’t think there’s an axe murderer in her apartment, and begins unpacking the sack of groceries she left on the kitchen counter. Pasta and vegetables and broth for some soup, and a jug of milk for in the morning. He turns to put the latter in the fridge, and busies himself with making dinner.

He’s got it almost on the table when she appears, hair damp and fresh-smelling; she’s wearing one of his old Kyoshi Warrior Academy t-shirts and a pair of Sokka’s gym shorts.

He doesn’t even care how far gone he is. All that matters is that little _thump_ his heart makes when he sees her.

“Smells good,” she greets him, sliding her arms around his middle. Zuko cheerfully drops the spoon into the soup pot so he can lean down and bury his face in her neck.

“You smell better,” he says, kissing the soft skin there. Katara shivers, but leans back to kiss him quickly before getting them both glasses of water.

He dishes up their food, and once they’re both several mouthfuls in he asks about her shift.

“It was okay,” she shrugs and takes another bite.

Zuko frowns, squints a little at her.

“Okay? That’s all?” Usually Katara has to tell him about her favorite patient of the day, her least favorite, and one or two that fall in between.

“Yeah,” Katara slurps a noodle off her spoon. “I mean, it wasn’t terribly exciting, but then again I don’t really enjoy the ER anyway.”

For a moment he doesn’t know what to say. He’s pretty sure she’s not telling him something…

“But if you want details, then that shooting in the Upper Ring flooded the place with cops. Security, victims, families…” She trails off, and he finds himself on the alert, worried that it got to her. Normally Katara is good at leaving the things she sees at the door, but maybe if it was bad enough….

“Mai said it hadn’t been that crazy since the Earth Kingdom cell of Phoenix got taken down.”

He doesn’t have anything in his mouth, but somehow he manages to choke on air.

“Are you okay?” Katara asks once he’s done coughing, eyes wide.

His own eyes watering, he glares at her. “That was mean.”

“What was mean?” she blinks innocently.

He just looks at her, trying very hard not to panic.

“All right, maybe it was a little mean,” she admits after a moment or two. “But Jet’s idea was even worse, he wanted me to send you a snapchat of the three of us.”

Zuko doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry. “Jet?”

“Oh,” Katara waves her spoon, talking around a mouthful of soup. “Jet and Mai are partners for the police.”

“Oh.” He pauses, not sure what to say. “Huh.”

It doesn’t quite encompass how he feels about the whole thing, which is to say _weird_ , but Katara is chewing the vegetable pieces left at the bottom of her bowl and watching him in amusement.

“Small world, hm?”

He snorts, but decides it’s all pretty hilarious, and grins at her. “Yeah. Tiny.”

She smiles, and gets up for more soup.

“Actually, um. Mai said some things about…about your sister…”

Katara’s standing behind him, but he can practically feel her glancing timidly at the back of his head. He swallows a chunk of zucchini and keeps his voice carefully neutral.

“Oh? Like what?”

There’s a pause.

“About when you had to help the police, how that was when Azula started…um – “

“Getting worse,” he supplies quietly.

He hears her sigh, then a moment later she slides into his lap, cradles his face between her hands.

“I know it must have been horrible,” she says sadly. “And I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to tell me everything, but if you want to talk, don’t be afraid to come to me. Okay?”

He answers by kissing her, deep and soft, feeling the smell of her clean hair and her soft skin threatening to pull him under. Ordinarily he’d gladly throw himself into the depths, because he’s learned that she’s just as fond of drowning in this as he is. But after a few moments, he pulls away slightly and contentedly runs his thumbs along the peaks of her hip bones.

“After my mom brought down the ring in Caldera, my dad went on the run.” The words feel heavy and awkward on his tongue. He swallows. “Right after my mom’s trial, Uncle got us out of the country. I still don’t know what strings he pulled, because by all rights I should’ve at least served a few months. I never took part in the arson, but I did a lot of behind the scenes work with the logistics of it all. Maybe it was because I was underage, I don’t know. But Uncle got us out, and we came here to start over.”

Katara doesn’t say anything, her expression completely trusting, merely waiting for him to go on.

“I was so angry with him.” Zuko closes his eyes. “I hated it here, I hated that we were dirt poor and I had to wait tables in a tea shop, I hated that Uncle was happier than I’d ever seen him. I especially hated that he made me go back to school.”

“That must have been really hard,” Katara muses. “Going to school with a bunch of normal kids when your life so was confusing.”

“It was,” he agrees, not surprised that she read between the lines and knew just what would’ve been the worst part of it all for him. “My classmates left me alone for the most part, except for one jerk on the cross country team. He figured out who I was, where I was from and wanted everyone else to know it.”

“What?” she stares, horrified.

“Apparently Phoenix had taken down a hotel in Caldera – the owner probably owed my dad some money or something – and this guy’s parents were staying there for a weekend getaway and didn’t make it out. He was really little when it happened but he kind of became…obsessed.”

Katara looks dumbfounded. “ _Jet?”_

“Yep.” He grins ruefully. “We got into so many fights our senior year. Teachers learned to put us in assigned seats on opposite sides of the room.”

She leans back, looks at him with new eyes. “No wonder you guys don’t get along…”

“That’s putting it lightly,” he chuckles, but sobers quickly. “Eventually we had a humongous screaming match at someone’s graduation party. We both ended up getting arrested and it just got worse when Uncle came to bail me out while he had to sit for the whole twenty-four hours. After that, we didn’t see each other anymore, he got a job at some cheap mechanic shop and I was spending my time in classes and working in the tea shop with Uncle.”

This is where the story turns from unpleasant to downright barbaric. He still feels a little sick in his stomach.

“Anyway, Mai and I…well. We’d known each other since were kids, but her parents were so wrapped up in Phoenix that there wasn’t a chance of her getting to come with us to Ba Sing Se. I had to leave her behind, which wasn’t easy.”

“You loved her,” Katara murmurs, not surprised or pulling away. Just thoughtful.

“I did,” he sighs. “But I couldn’t get her to leave Phoenix. Azula was her best friend since infancy, her and Ty Lee – “

“ _What?_ ” Katara is shocked all over again. “Dr. Ueno?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. He’d forgotten about the day Katara took him to therapy and met the third member of Azula’s own miniature gang. “Anyway…they were some of my dad’s best lieutenants, and after my mom brought down the main cell in Caldera he sent the three of them here. He didn’t know where Uncle and I had disappeared to, but I happened to run into Mai at the supermarket one day after my shift at the tea shop. She was as surprised as I was, but when I learned why she was here…”

“You tried to stop them.”

It’s not a question, because she knows him well. He nods.

“Until then, Uncle and I had kept completely off the grid. We’d assumed fake identities, avoided trouble like the plague, but when I realized my dad was still trying to keep Phoenix alive I knew I had to do something. So I went to the police – unknowingly, straight to a detective Azula had already paid off.”

“Oh,” Katara says, wincing.

“Uncle and I both got arrested, on trumped up charges, and Mai came to see me.”

He swallows. Somehow, even though it’s water long since under the bridge, remembering that conversation still hurts.

_“What are you doing, Zuko?”_

_Mai folded her arms, and he tried not to panic at the way she was dressed – all in black, with a red silk band in her hair. The usual Phoenix uniform._

_“I should be asking you the same thing,” he said, voice trembling. “People are going to die. Innocent people. Why are you doing this? Azula can’t have that much power over you.”_

_Her expression darkened. “She’s not making me do anything. This is my life, Zuko. It always has been – and it’s yours, too.”_

_“Not anymore.” He gripped the bars so tightly it was a wonder he didn’t leave finger indents. “I left.”_

_“Yeah, I’d noticed,” she snapped, the first real sign of anger slipping through her armor. “You left me, with nothing but a note on a scrap of paper for a goodbye.”_

_“I’m sorry,” he told her, genuine. “But I couldn’t stay.”_

_“Not even for me?” she asked, sounding closer to pleading than he’d ever heard from her._

_“Not for anyone. What we did was wrong.” He didn’t add how he still woke up most nights in a cold sweat, smelling smoke and screams ringing in his ears._

_“You’re just now deciding to have a conscience?” She sneered, and the way it reminded him of his sister helped to put some bite into his next words._

_“And you’re still deciding to ignore yours.”_

_She left, without saying another word._

When he falls silent, Katara runs her fingers through his hair. “You’d made your choice,” she says softly, “and she made hers.”

He nods.

“Uncle and I spent a night in the cell together, both of us out of our minds with worry over what the girls would do while we were locked up. Frankly I’m still surprised they didn’t burn the jail down on top of us, but in the end it didn’t matter – sometime late that night, they put a guy in the cell next to ours. He was drunk, and a mess, but he still recognized me.”

“Jet again,” Katara smiles.

“He yelled at me for almost twenty minutes before the guards were able to threaten him enough to shut him up.” Zuko refrains from rolling his eyes. “When he heard the conversation between me and Mai, though, he just _stared_ at me for the longest time after. It was kind of creepy.”

“Sounds like Jet.”

“I woke up around two or three in the morning, and saw him standing outside my cell, holding the door wide open.”

“You’re kidding!”

“No,” he laughs. “Jet busted us out, and threatened to break my nose if he ever saw me again. Uncle and I managed to find a clean cop, and took a chance by telling her our real identities.”

He grins, remembering how reluctant June was to believe that the ill-tempered tea server and the fireman who kept telling her how beautiful she was were a couple of ex-criminals. Uncle had to produce some papers that proved their identities as members of Phoenix, something that terrified them both. But June had pulled every string she could get her hands on, and they’d received a deal that allowed them both to walk free if they helped the police stop his sister.

Katara shakes her head, looking as amazed as he still feels sometimes. “So Mai and Ty Lee served some time, got their lives straightened around…you joined the force with Uncle – “

“And after a couple of years, he retired to open his own tea shop – which is where all of his money is from, by the way – and Jet still maintains his distance.”

“He had a really bad drinking problem back then,” Katara remembers sadly. “I took him to support groups, I tried to help him, but it wasn’t enough. It had to be his choice.”

“From what you’ve told me, it was.” Zuko shrugs. “I asked him, as we were leaving the jail, why he’d let himself get so drunk anyway. He told me his girlfriend dumped him earlier that night.”

Katara’s mouth drops open. “Wh – “

“And he said you were the best thing that ever happened to him.”

Speechless, she lets him hold her for a few moments before she sighs.

“Breaking up with him…it was _hard_. It scared me, how hard it was. I cared about him so much but no matter what I did, he stayed so angry and bitter. Sokka finally had enough and we had a huge fight, he said that I was letting him poison me. I threw a lamp at him but when I’d finally calmed down I knew he was right.”

Zuko studies her, sort of amazed at how much better he feels for having had this conversation. The whole ugly truth is out there, laid bare for her to see, and while a lot of people would shrink away, she nestles closer, wraps him up tighter in her arms to keep the demons away.

He lets himself hold her a second longer, and kisses her hairline. “Soup’s getting cold.”

“Oh!” She jumps up, runs over to the stove, but halfway there she pauses, comes back and kisses him for real, and smiles when she pulls away to get her soup.

He watches her, and it’s the most natural thing in the world to shift back to everyday talk.

“So where was this shooting at? We didn’t hear anything about it at the station.”

“Near that new market they’re building in the Upper Ring, on Baker’s Circle.” Katara hums as she tries to avoid the broccoli that’s left in the pot. “They said it was a spill-over from some gang rival, or something.”

Zuko pauses in his sip of water, suddenly feeling very, very nervous.

“Baker’s Circle?”

“Yeah,” Katara says, clearly not remembering the address from her one visit.

He gnaws his lip, trying to decide if he’s just being paranoid, and that’s the moment his phone starts playing the F.R.I.E.N.D.S. theme.

His stomach drops to the floor.

“Call Sokka and tell him to meet us there,” he says, not waiting to see if Katara understands or not before he answers. “Suki?”

“Zuko?”

He closes his eyes, desperately tries to keep his voice from shaking as badly as Suki’s is.

“I’m coming over, okay?”

“Zuko…sh-she was here. She’s gone now but she was here, I can tell, she l-left a note – “

“Suki,” he says, shoving his feet into his boots and grabbing his keys. “I’m coming over there _right now._ Okay?”

“Okay.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look okay if one single person leaves a Mai hate comment on this story I will block you as fast as my crappy wifi will allow. Hate on Maiko all you want but Mai herself is an absolute queen and in this story will be treated as such thank you for your time.
> 
> (No really thanks so much for reading this, if you still are, and again I’m so sorry it took this long. Next chapter is already in progress!)


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